tuannyriver

Like three different recordings in the early 1970s, two of Khánh Ly and one of Lệ Thu, this song of Trịnh Công Sơn is quietly remarkable if also underrated. It’s been rumored that he wrote in 1964, and it was the first song that he “gifted” (dedicated to?) Khánh Ly. From what I’ve seen, it’s either speculation (that he wrote it for her) or wild speculation (that he was inspired by her and the lyrics were about her). There’s no way of knowing without clear evidence.

It shouldn’t matter all that much. The song is notable because the lyrics are about a woman, but they are not about a young man expressing his romantic feeling to her or about her, as it was the case of hundreds of love songs recorded in the Republic of Vietnam. They instead reflect the narrator’s description of her current situation, followed by his longing for her return to him. But return from what? The song isn’t entirely clear on this point, notwithstanding two verses of description. There is a mystery about her situation, which might be a reason for the appeal of the song.

LYRICS & MEANINGS

The lyrics are organized into three verses and without a chorus. Both the woman and the forest of the title appear in all the verses. The lyrics of the first verse quickly establishes this association:

Ta thấy em trong tiền kiếp, với mặt trời lẻ loi,
Ta thấy em đang ngồi hát, khi rừng về nhiều mây,
Rừng thu thay lá, mưa bay buồn rầu,
Rừng đông buốt giá, mưa bay dạt dào.

I see you in a past life, alongside a lonely sun,
I see you sitting and singing, while clouds gather over the woods.
The autumnal forest change leaves, and dreary rain drops,
The woods in winter freezes, and windy rain falls.

Without a chorus, the third verse shifts from the first two verses but not drastically. The focus shifts from the woman to the narrator, who ends the song by urging her to leave the woods and return to his long-waiting self.

Ta vẫn mong, ta chờ mãi, trên từng ngày quạnh hiu,
Ta vẫn mong em về đây, cho đời đầy cuộc vui,
Mùa xuân đã đến, em hãy quay về,
Rừng xưa đã khép, em hãy ra đi.

I still hope, I still wait, over each and all lonely days,
I still hope you return here, so life would be joyful,
Spring has arrived, please come back,
The old woods have closed, please depart from it.

A few months ago, I divided TCS’s songs into three basic categories: (1) romantic music, (2) music of Vietnamese nationalism, and (3) philosophical and quasi-religious music. This song is somewhat tricky because it is “romantic,” broadly speaking, but there are quasi-religious elements from the references to “past life.” The notion of a forest being closed, rừng khép, also sounds quasi-mystical. I don’t have the time to look further into the association between romantic love and such quasi-religious ideas in TCS’s music. But I think it’s very much worth studying this association in greater depth.

How about the narrator of the lyrics? There are two possible interpretations that are also opposite to each other.

First is the interpretation that he is in control of his rational faculty. The last verse suggests that the narrator and the woman had known and, possibly, loved each other. For sure, he has loved her and still does. Less clear is her love for him at this point. But his plea of “please come back” (em hãy quay về) indicates that they had been romantically together. In this interpretation, the narrator has waited and has longed for reunion with the woman. There’s no indication that she had died, rendering the references to “past life” a figure of speech rather than a strictly religious belief. His longing does not sound irrational or delusional, but genuine and true.

Is it possible, however, to give a different interpretation? One in which the narrator’s longing for the woman is so overwhelming and unreal, that it’s actually his imagination of her or his illusion of love with her. This interpretation would heavily depend on the concept “in a past life”: trong tiền kiếp. It’s presumptuous, isn’t it, to say that he could see her in a past life? Maybe it’s all in his head, no? A mistaken belief that they had been together. Or an illusory desire that they would be reunited if she could return to him (which she can’t). A belief fueled partially by alcoholic consumption or intoxication?

The first interpretation is more sound; it’s the safe bet. For the time being, however, I wouldn’t necessarily dismiss the second interpretation.

RECORDINGS

The first two verses are typically sung slowly, and sometimes all three verses. Its recordings stands out for this reason. Khánh Ly released at least two different recordings of the song before 1975.

The first recoding features her vocals and accompaniment by a lone acoustic guitar. It’s a Spanish classical guitar: i.e., with nylon strings for a warmer and more intimate tone. But this recording also stands out because it employs flamenco techniques. Arperggio, for instance, appears in spots. And Rasgueado is played during the last twenty seconds, as Khánh Ly rounds up the last verse. This arrangement of the flamenco style gives the recording a deeply meditative and philosophical tone.

The second recording opens with a trumpet announcing the theme of the melody, and a piano backing the announcement. Once the vocals begin, the piano becomes largely the only instrument for the first two verses. With the third verse, other instruments join in, including the bass and drums and a return of the trumpet for a solo. Khánh Ly’s voice returns for the second and third verses. Like before, all sounds come together in the third verse, and the trumpet appropriately ends the recording with a closing statement.

Rừng xưa đã khép isn’t among the most popular songs of TCS, and its performances are relatively few in between. One of the best recordings after 1975 is the following by Mộc San from November 2023. Besides her vocals, it features only an acoustic guitar like the first recording of Khánh Ly. The accompaniment, however, is quite conventional, opting for melodiousness rather than meditativeness.

Mộc San’s version favors minimalism. At the opposite end of the spectrum is the following performance in one of the Paris By Night programs. It is weird, if not outright wrong-headed.

Much better is this recording by Lệ Thu from 1971. Its arrangement is a mix of the arrangements of Khánh Ly’s recordings in the same decade. For the first round of the verses, the accompaniment is the classical guitar played in the flamenco style. Then enters a full band for the instrumental break. Most notably, Lệ Thu’s voice is somewhat atypical. Rather than her signature warmness, the tone is clear and high and the intonation is youthful and confident. It’s still recognizable as Lệ Thu’s voice, but also more “pure.” It’s an underrated recording of an underrated song.