The moon just entered the door blush like autumn ripe fruit. *** Don’t raise your voice The birds have just folded their wings to fly Eyes closed the old straw nest. *** Don’t raise your voice The lullaby is still ringing On the breast. *** The crease of the shirt is fermented from the previous wind This afternoon smells of god People Just resting your feet. *** Don’t raise your voice. A collection of poems, Voices, by Ta Anh Thu. Photo: FBNV. Comments Poem Don’t raise your voice in each stanza – the passage has the appearance and spirit of a Haiku. The still movement of time in the ripe fruit, the restless closing of the bird’s wings leaving the nest; The lullaby still resounds on the breast, the drunken yeast of the journey suddenly bewildered when stopping… gives us the ancient melancholy. Poetic form is a framework that avant-garde poets always intend to overcome. Overcoming the form of the body (for example: Six bowls, Haiku…) to create the life of the genre (Poetry) is the path of regal innovation. Holding only poetry as the nourishment of the genre and challenging the rigidity of the body is a particular delight in artistic creation. Ta Anh Thu must have thought of that when evoking the Haiku atmosphere and beyond the Haiku form. Don’t raise your voice not silence, but to listen to the sound of silence. Picking up each moment, stringing together four poems, forming a closed structure, the poem keeps the reader in a space separate from the noisy, tired world out there. Reading poems, for me, can be a way of self-support!