THÀNH NGỮ TRONG TRUYỆN KIỀU _ TỪ ĐIỂN BPD VIỆT ANH

It's always been the same. good fortune seldom came the way of those endowed, they say, with genius and a dainty face What tragedies take place within each circling.space of years! "Rich in good looks" appears to mean poor luck and tears of woe; which may sound strange, I know, but is not really so, I swear, since Heaven everywhere seems jealous of the fair of face. Where bamboo covers case old man uscripts of cou ntless price preserved in fragrant spice, sit by a lamp and study well the story that they tell; how in the dynasty of Ming when Jia-ching was the king and all his empire was at rest, among those who were blessed with learning was a man named Vuong. He had a son, the young Vuong-Quan, to carry on his name and literary fa me; and two girls, Thuy-Van and T4uy-Kieu. who were as slim as two young poplar-trees, as pure as snow, as fair as heaven, though quite different in their perfect grace. Van's moon-like round clear face her honest simple heart displayed; eyebrows two a rches made; her voice like jade, clear, free from guile, was comely as her smile which blossomed like an opening rose. What beauty have the snows to that with which she was endowed? What is a floating cloud compared with Th uy-Van's flowing hair? But Kieu was yet more fair. the elder's merits took the prize. Like autumn seas her eyes, eyebrows like spring hills far away. Flowers wished they were as gay; the aspen shook with envying her. One glance of Kieu's could stir cities or empires to revolt! Her beauty had no fault, nor in her mind was any flaw: she'd write in verse, or draw; excel at playing on the lute; and, choosing tunes to suit, compose songs for herself t.o sing. One such, so sad a thing the listeners wept, she called "Cruel Fate". Remaining - from the date she dressed her hair - a child no more, behind a fastened door and modest curtains, brought up well, i n brief peace could she dwell. Though suitors swarmed outside the wall Kieu never came a t all to gratify their greedy gaze. Like shuttles flew the days, till, on the sixtieth day of spring, when trees are blossoming and petals lie upon the grou nd , The festival comes rou nd to trim the grass on family graves . The crowds flow past in waves like flocks of swallows round their nest. Van, Kieu, and Vuong-Quan dressed and took a stroll among the throng . Fair ladies passed along, and noble, well-dressed gentlemen. The crowds divided when each vehicle a nd horse would pass. Scattered upon the grass were golden- paper ritual gifts for bu rning. Each fire lifts the ashes to the dead on high . Gold, too, the western sky. from which the sinking sun's late ray showed up the graves which lay like little hillocks all a round. The three of them soon fou nd a little stream by which they strolled, while vistas new u nrolled before them to ad mire until, mea ndering down, the rill passed u nderneath a narrow bridge. Nearby, upon a ridge beside the road, the sisters found a lonely little mound: an overgrown, neglected tomb. "Why is there no perfume of joss-sticks on the day ordained?" asked Kieu; Vuong-Quan explained: "Dam-Tien, the girl who's buried here, whose beauty knew no peer, was so famed as a singer, more admirers thronged her door than swallows gather on the bough. Yet fate would not allow this flower to stay long blossoming, and in the early spring the branch on which it grew fell down . A stranger came to town. by boat, soon after she had died to seek her for his bride, for he had heard the singer's fame in far lands whence he came, and not until he came to look was he informed the hook had broken and the vase crashed down. He entered with a frown and found her room sad, silent, cold and empty. Where of old the horse and carriage used to pass, the ruts were sprouting grass. He wept, but tears could not relieve his sorrow. "I perceive," he said, "we were not meant to be together. Destiny has kept us two apart in life. That she may be my wife hereafter, may this be the pledge." He had made, from a wedge of teak her coffin, and with pearl adorned her hearse. The girl was buried here, where flowers and weeds grew on the grave. None heeds it now, since many moons ago. The tears began to flow into Kieu's eyes and fall like pearls. What tender hearts have girls! "Ah, what a dreadful fate she had," was Kieu's complaint. "So sad! Creator, why so cruel and hard? Her rosy cheeks you marred while she was but a child. In life all wanted her for wife; now she's a ghost without a spouse. Those who stood rou nd her house, waiting to woo her, where are they? Since no one else will pay respect and pity, I will light some incense sticks tonight; and from another world, maybe poor Dam-Tien, you will see." She knelt, and in the sunset there uttered a m urmured prayer. For graveside pennants only reeds, growing as rank as weeds, fluttered their heads u pon the breeze. Seeing the nearby trees, Kieu drew a hairpin from her hair and on the tree bark there she scratched a verse. Then sunk in thought she stood, her face distraught, till every thought became a tear . Said Van. "Oh, sister dear, how strange to weep for one long dead!" "In any age," Kieu said, "does cruel Fortune ever spare young rosy cheeks and fair? Thinking of her who's here at rest I'm by one thought obsessed; who knows what will become of me?" Quan said, reproachfully, "That's stupid talk, what you've just said! Your words about the dead were turned to mean yourself just then; don't talk like that again! The air is damp here; we should leave; it's getting late, and we've a lengthy journey home again." "I know," said Kieu, "but when the good die you ng, their bodies die, their souls live on! And I have fou nd in her a kindred heart. So let us not depart. I'll hear her call me if I try." Before they could reply a squally wind arose. The breeze tore leaves down, shook the trees, a nd seemed to bear a light perfume . They all ran past the tomb to where the wind had gone before; when suddenly they saw footprints before them on the moss! Sheer terror passed across their faces. But Kieu said "My faith caused this, no doubt. The wraith must have a tender hea rt like mine. Our fates will intertwine though I'm alive and she is dead!" Immediately Kieu said a prayer to thank her who had willed to show herself, then filled with joy, traced more verse on the tree. They stood, u ncertainly . not sure if they should stay or go, when, musical and low, the sound of tinkling bells grew clear. A scholar soon drew near riding a sturdy snow-white steed; so lively that, indeed, his pageboys scarce could keep apace. His robes glow with a grace in wbich grass-green with sky-blue blends; the bag of "odds-a nd-ends" he bears, marks him a gentleman. But when he saw Vuong-Quan and his two sisters, straight away he stopped, and came to pay his compliments . Dismounting there he seemed, wearing a pair of rich embroidered shoes, to pass across the springy grass towards them like a man of jade. Vuong-Quan who knew him, made a low bow, while his sisters tried to fi nd a place to hide beneath the blossom-covered boughs. The scholar had his house within a village close to where their own house stood near there; his name was Kim, his surna me Trong . His family had long been wealthy scholars, well renowned for talent all around. Both birth and breeding joined to form a man above the norm in reading and intelligence, with more than common sense, good manners and a generous heart; and living in that part of China since his birth, both he and Vuong-Quan came to be young fellow-pupils in one class. And so it came to pass the fame of neighbours Van and Kieu had come to his ears, too; like those two girls called Kieu of old of whom the tale is told that in "Bronze Sparrow Tower" one day they would be locked away. He loved her whom he'd never seen; for an eternity he'd been consumed by passion never voiced. So now his heart rejoiced to meet amid his wandering the dreamt of flower of spring. No sooner had he recognised them, than he realised both spring and autumn flowers are fair. Despite her modest care to hide her feelings, Kieu, whose grace and loveliness of face was ranked all other girls above, was loved by and in love wih Kim whose talents were supreme. They thought it was a dream! It was improper, though, to stay; painful to go away; they wished the daylight would not fade. Kim had already made a move to mount upon his horse. and as he left, of course, a furtive glance the shy girl took. Down at the little brook the stream began to seem more clear, and willows to appear like silk skeins trailing in the gloom. When Kieu regained her room the gong's note tolled the sun's last glow; the moon began to show through windowpanes her mirror bright, and, slanting through the night, spread paths of silver on the ponds. Dew dropped down from the fronds, camellias drooped their heads, full blown. Kieu watched the moon, alone; confusing what had happened last with the more distant past, she murm ured, "That u nlucky girl! The Fates conspired to h url her from her place most cruelly. That young man; who was he? Will Fate unite us, now we've met? These puzzling thoughts she set in verse, while moonlight fell in lines obliquely through the blinds. At last Kieu fell i nto a deep, and deeply trou bled sleep, leaning against a balustrade.