November 2, 1965. Norman Morrison, An America Anti-war activist doused himself in kerosene and set himself on fire below the office of Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara at the Pentagon to protest United States involvement in the Vietnam War, leading to his sacrifice. After the Vietnam War ended, he was remembered as a symbol of peace and inspired many generations. In Late November 1975, Vietnamese Author, Tố Hữu, wrote a poem called, Ê-mi-ly, con (Emily, my child), capturing the tragic intimacy of Morrison's final moments with his eleven-month-old daughter, Emily, whom he held just moments before striking the match. And with that said, I present, my English translation of the poem, Ê-mi-ly, con by Tố Hữu. I truly hope you enjoy.
Dear Norman Morrison, Emily, come with me So you will remember. Where, dad? The Potomac River. For what to come? Nothing, my child, only the pentagon. Oh, Your round eyes. Your silken blond hair. Seek no more the hidden root, my child. Let me keep your warmth against the winter chill. Washington The twilight O the souls Still, gone Let it burn, for the truth! Johnson! The Devil smiles Hated by humanity The Golden Demon. You can’t use the warmth From the hide of Christians, and the gold of Buddhists! McNamara You can hide no longer. Of the five-cornered building Each corner is a continent You still shove your head Into the burning fire Just like an ostrich, burying its head in the burning sand. Stand! For the world to witness! Oh not only me and my child I am today and my child, Emily, is forever! I’m standing here, My heart great Of a hundred million people Of America. To burn until the horizon A light Justice. O all of you, a horde of demons! In the name of who? The skies cry the B.52 The Napalms, gas From the White House From the Guam To Vietnam To murder the peace and the freedom of people. To reduce hospitals and schools to their ash. Purging the people, only know to love. Purging the children, only know to learn. Killing the green fields of memories and love. And killing the rivers of words and cultures. For who? Burying times and ages in coffins. O, a generation. A future of humanity, Of America! For who? Fly into the deep forest The offensive mesas The villages, turned into phantom citadels Those Days and Nights, Where the earth shook and the sky trembled… O, Vietnam, a tale for survival The innocent look in their eyes, Hiding in the mud of what is left. When even wild bees are trained into soldiers, And fruits and flowers also turn into weapons! Be gone, be lost O all of you, a swarm of fiends! And lean your ear, United States of America! The pain, the sound of eternal anger Of a man. A son of a Century. Emily, my child! The moon is rising… I can hold you no longer! As the fire glows Tonight, mom will find you Emily, you will hug her deeply, For your father. And you will say to mom, Dad goes in peace, please, Mother, do not weep! Washington The twilight O the souls Still, gone? Soon, my soul would be free! Let my body, burn For the blinding flames To shine The Truth.
