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SÁCH AMAZON


Mua bản sách in

Tue Si – A skinny man in a devastated homeland. Tue Si – A man hiding in the bottomless abyss, Tue Si – On the towering Truong Son mountain range, covered in mist and white clouds. These typical adjectives describe a man who seems to be wandering somewhere, hiding in the smoke and rocks. Hiding above the smoke and waves. Up and down on the white-capped waters of the ocean. Appearing in a devastated homeland. Hiding deep in the hearts of the poor. Day and night, he is always there. Like a rotten, tormented soul among millions of miserable, emaciated souls. Always screaming to the blue sky, but the powerful and ambitious people there still cover their ears and close their eyes like monkeys jumping on tree branches without conscience. Like a pack of wild animals trampling the mountains and forests where they live.

A bright star in the east to guide the lost stars. The whole sky is pitch black, deep and dark, covering all things, bowing in despair.

“Oh sadness since the day I lost my way,
Trying to forget that I am a fairy”
(Truong Son Dream 57- An Tiem 2002)

That’s right! Tue Si, who lost his way, for the past forty years has had to live with grass, mist, sunlight… with green forests, deep and silent valleys, to nurture a skinny body like Kho Moc Zen Master, on the howling Truong Son peak. Lost his way to lull his life through the terrifying dream of his homeland. Through the suffering and misery of his people. Because he lost his way into a desolate tragedy that stirred up the common pain of humanity. The resentment of trees, rocks, and human life is swept away by the dust of dark time.

Being human, sharing feelings and thoughts that no one understands or recognizes because they have lost their rhythm. The people there are overwhelmed by the light of ambition. The path of corruption leads to the scene of selling out the country for glory. A group of people who have lost their lives and lost their way in the wild and desolate era of prehistoric times. Because they have lost their way, they do not share the same consciousness of life. The consciousness of consciousness. Real people. People of conscience. People of people. People of all, wild grass, clouds, blue sea, deep mountains... Because they have lost their way, they feel lonely in the midst of human society with no one to sympathize, share, their feelings and aspirations to accompany them on the path of serving others, of benefiting religion and life. When they still exist. What human mentality is there when they have a precious gem in their hands and throw it in the corner of the house, throw it in the trash. This mentality can be found in people who live far from the human world, not knowing the value of a pearl. Or more precisely, like apes, monkeys. Give it a banana, take it and eat it immediately, but give it a pearl, it looks at it again and again and then throws it away without regret. Apes and monkeys do not think about the rare value of a pearl, so in the eyes of apes and monkeys, a pearl is not as precious as a banana.

In all times, even in the distant past, humans have only built a low social life, working with hands and feet, rarely using brain work. But those who have a head, for the flow of thoughts, for knowledge to exist through daily life, those with a head are still better, still respected to explore, develop things that need to be explored, need to be developed. Only then can humans progress, sublimate their holy life, and raise the level of social knowledge. Otherwise, that society will not catch up with other advanced civilizations.



If you have already lost your way, then try to forget that you are a fairy, and have to go into the forest to eat fruit, drink spring water, and swing from branch to branch with the monkeys to pass the days and months, following the flow of time:

“Going back and forth, remember half a tune,
Who put an inn to block the way back?”
(Truong Son Dream - An Tiem 2002)

There are people who go back and forth to seek, to fight for power and prestige, even if they go with their heads down to the ground, they still do it to get dishonest ambitions, unjust money, high power and wealth even if they have to sell their country to foreigners, hoping for money to fill their pockets, gold and jade to fill their houses, to line and inlay tables and chairs to sit and enjoy on the blood and bones of the common people. But here, there are people who "go back and forth" but only to "remember half a tune" and not to "complete a tune". So simple! So content! Knowing enough is like a human body with a height of 1.59 m and a weight of 39.5 kg. How many people can go back and forth like that? Or are there only those who stand outside the circle of fame and fortune, outside the gossip, ego, and mediocrity of the world.

That half a tune is like a long note of a tune and then suddenly stops. Like the history of the homeland and people falling into a deep, dark, obscure, and hopeless hole through today's historical journey.



Life is like an inn, people come and go. Birth and death, countless, boundless, endless. People were immersed in that inn and created all kinds of problems to block the way back for their distant dreams. So, being blocked from returning, unable to return, they returned to live with themselves. Closing the door, not contacting the outside world, starving, going on hunger strike. Drinking only lemonade mixed with sugar all day. Sometimes fainting on the table from hunger. There are still some unfinished verses:

“I ride ants to find the fairy cave
The realm of immortality, butterflies are wandering
Toads and frogs wander to find life
In the deep cave, the snake dreams.”
(Truong Son Dream - An Tiem, p. 68, 2002)



Being blocked from the way back, I ride ants to find the fairy cave, to cultivate into an immortal. Living in that immortal realm, enjoying with butterflies, bees, frogs, snakes in the deep cave, dreaming of the dream world. If you can't live in reality, then live in a dream. Live for yourself. Living through a dream that seemed to have:

“Last night I dreamed I saw blood
From the Milky Way pouring down to the human world
A mother pierced her child’s heart into a hole
To hook inside a shining pearl”
(Truong Son Dream - An Tiem, p. 67, 2002)

What mother would pierce her child’s heart into a hole to hook inside a shining pearl? Only a crazy mother of the times would do that. That crazy mother only knows gold and jade but does not have the sacred love of giving birth and loving her children. The crazy mother of the times has pushed her children to wander around and dig through trash to make a living. To find a living on the miserable sidewalks. Illiterate, hungry and poor… And the mother is intoxicated with the enjoyment of jade and silver bracelets from the blood of the people, but last night she dreamed “I saw blood”. Blood dyed people red. Blood flowed like a river. Blood spread all over the country. Then there were nights sitting by the window, watching the candle burn out through the window frame to live a dream, to live a dream as if it were real.

“By the window on the other side of the hill, the stars rise
Once gone, the ship is gone forever.”
(Truong Son Dream - An Tiem, p. 12, 2002)

Where to go now, because someone has blocked the way back, there is no way back. There is no road to go and no inn to go to. There is no way back. There is no inn either. Just bury yourself next to a pile of old books with four mossy walls and tap the rhythm. Because of living a dream, you stay away from the human world, go into caves and forests to dig the land to make a living. Plant squash, sweet potatoes, bitter melon, vegetables, perilla, lettuce... to lie down at night listening to the chirping of crickets, insects singing national songs.

“Wherever you go, your figure is worn out
The path back and forth still has faint traces
The path of history
Four thousand years of waves
Leaving you without a destination.”
(Truong Son Dream - An Tiem, p. 85, 2002)



Living with people who are blocked from returning. Living in reality has become a dream and living in a dream to see reality, a life that competes for life. Competing, fighting day and night on the ground or underground listening to the terrifying destruction, killing the life of the laboring people.

“I know you are a ladybug
Gnawing at the remains of the squash
I compete for life
Suffering and wearing out my mind.

I know you are a cricket
Biting off the legs of young leaves
I am a slave for life
So I seal up my resentment

I know you are a worm
Crawling deep underground
I am a loser for life
Dreaming of white hair at night”
(Truong Son Dream - An Tiem, p. 31, 2002)

Drifting through the years, my body as thin as a reed, in the middle of Bao Loc mountains, in the dark night, sometimes not longing to breathe anymore, lying in the middle of the mountains and forests, the villagers brought back some more air to breathe. Is this a dream or reality, is it the civilized life of the human world or the life of wild animals in the deep mountains and dangerous forests?

Has anyone ever thought of the "Immortal" to see the precious gem of the nation's race, and lit an incense stick to pray, to preserve it for a thousand years without fading? The mountains and forests of Bao Loc bowed their heads silently to listen to the "Immortal" riding ants to travel through the endless path of life and death. Lao Tzu rode a buffalo to become immortal. The "Immortal" rode ants to share life and death with living beings.

San Diego, Manh Dong, January 5, 2017