“It was not the isolation that was hardest to endure, though it lasted nearly three decades. Nor was it the cold of his cell, where he was often chained naked, nor summer’s blistering heat, nor the rusty shackles that infected his legs, nor the relentless hunger. It was, Nguyen Chi Thien said afterward, the utter lack of access to the written word: no books, no newspapers and, more devastating still for a poet, not so much as a pencil or a scrap of paper. He kept writing anyway, producing songs of love, howls of protest and hundreds of other poems — some 700 in all — each one composed, edited, revised and stored entirely in his head for a posterity he was not sure would come.”
