When I arrive at Ngang Pass, the sun has set low
Trees crowd themselves against rocks, leaves against flowers.
Several woodcutters stoop themselves at the foot of a mountain
Several houses of minority people scatter near a riverbank.
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This reminds me of the Tang poet Du Fu. Huts are nestled at the foot of the mountain, and trees crowd against rocks. These things are part of the landscape, and they have always belonged here. In contrast, the viewer is just passing through, so he is sensitive to a note of dislocation in the cries of the birds. The aftereffects of war are still felt in the loss of connection to land.
I am so glad that you enjoyed reading this poem. And, more importantly, for taking your time to comment on it. Thanks. Nhien