Thawta Swe - Myinkalay Attar and other personal articles

The silver star that falls from the sky, the peacock's tail,

In our current Burmese literature, those who are standing as poets are particularly commendable. Because even if you write a poem in a magazine and include it in the front page of the poetry section, how much do you get for the manuscript? Twenty pages, that is. That is, if you can write 10 poems in 10 monthly magazines, you won't even have enough to eat. After collecting your poems, saying they are good and popular, you try to publish them as a book, but very few people will buy them, and the rental shops won't take them. Therefore, those who publish books are called poets.

Yet, as I see poets multiplying day by day like fish in water, I am glad to see them as true literary enthusiasts. They are not writers who write for money like some writers. They are people who write because they have other jobs and cannot help but write poetry.

Among them, the one who continued to write the most poems until his death was the poet Daung Nwe Swe, who passed away on (22-3-85) at the age of 54.

He is more than 10 years younger than me. However, I entered the literary world in 1947, when I was 28 years old, and Daung Nwe Swe started writing poems in 1948, when he was about 17 years old. He and I became friends at Shuma Wa Magazine, he as a poet and I as a writer. He liked my novels, and I praised his poems, and we respected each other. We became the main poets and main novelists of Shuma Wa Magazine.

I heard what Shu Ma Oo Kyaw said. Daung Nwe Swe's poetry is not to be rejected, it is not bad. Thaw Ta Swe's novels are not to be rejected, it is not bad.

In fact, Daung Nwe Swe wrote the most poems in Shuma Wa, and Thaw Ta Swe also wrote the most novels in Shuma Wa. To this day... look. .

However... he should be praised more than me. Because I can barely make a living by writing novels. Daung Nwe Swe, although he writes poems in magazines, is not a man who can make a living. He has worked as an associate editor for the Economic Newspaper, the Daily May Journal, the Owai Journal, and the Phyu Ni Nyo Pyaw Magazine. His wife, Daw Khin Myint, also writes novels under the pen name “Daily May Ma Myint Nwe”. Later, Daung Nwe Swe himself wrote novels. Each one sold quite well, so when I read one or two of his novels, I was disappointed.

One day, I met Saha and I,

“Hey, Nga Daung, what are you writing about? And your poems are so respectable. And I read your novels.”

He said, "Don't read it, brother. These things are not written for people like you to read. They are just gossiping because they don't have anything to eat, brother."

That's right. Doesn't he need to eat well to survive as a poet?

Later, he stopped writing such stories and, with the knowledge he had studied and pursued, he became a palmist, saying that Daung Nwe Swe was Pyi Hein Kyaw, and Pyi Hein Kyaw was Daung Nwe Swe.

One day, I met him in Shuma and asked, “Hey, big guy, what do you do as a fortune teller?” He replied, “Oh, these days, that job is for the younger brother.”

He was born into a variety of lives to establish himself as a poet.

Daung Nwe Swe's humor and eloquence.

On Sunday, July 22, 1984, Daung Nwe Swe and I happened to be traveling with our family.

At the invitation of the Twante Township Party Committee, we, the literary workers from Yangon, led by poet Twante Thet Oo, went to study the Twante Township Lake One Hundred Yards Project. In order of age, they were: Sayar Magha, Thaw Ta Swe, Hla Tha Main, Daung Nwe Swe, poet Aung Mhoing, Vedan Sikha writer Sayar Min Thein Kha, (who are the older female writers? I won’t say the younger ones) Myint Nwe, (her daughter) Hnin Pan Khaing, Yuwadi Shwe Wa Sein, University Tin Lay, Yuwadi Khaing Sargwa.

At around 7am, we boarded the Dala ferry from Pansodan Port. After arriving at Dala Port about 5 minutes later, we set off in three jeeps for the 17-mile journey to Twante.

Luckily, I happened to be in the same car with Min Thein Kha, a writer and astrologer, and Daung Nwe Swe, a Pyi Hein Kyaw, and I had to listen to them chatter about astrology.

There, a man who had come to meet me from Twante suddenly had an idea.

“You must have read in the newspapers from last March. At our monastery in Kanpe village, Twantay Township, a big cat was breastfeeding baby mice. What is that sign of the past?” I asked, and Daung Nwe Swe, who was more eloquent than Min Thein Kha, nodded and said...

"There was a big fire in Mandalay," he said (and the news was only a few days apart). I...

"Hey, Ngana, what's the deal with that? What kind of a joke are you talking about?"

"Brother, it's the story of the Nyaung U cliff collapse and the broken thigh of the big cow in Sampangor."

"That's just what I'm saying, my people. I'll answer any questions quickly, and if I'm wrong, I'll be beaten up. I'm not a fortune teller who will be discharged from the hospital," the people laughed.

After a while, a man sitting near me suddenly had an idea. I...

“Teacher Daung Nwe Swe and traditional lady Ma Myint Nwe are husband and wife.”

"Yes, of course."

Then the man had a strange thought...

"Then they will love each other very much," I said, "Oh, they will love each other like a husband and wife. Why are you asking specifically?" So...

"Sir, since they are both poets and writers, in addition to loving each other as people, they also love each other as artists. So, do they love each other more than ordinary married couples?"

Then, in my mind, if he thinks, he will think, if he asks, he will ask, this person must be very interested in poetry, and I thought, and I also had the urge to say something funny, so I said to the Daung Nwe Swe who was sitting behind me..

"Hey, did you hear what this person is asking?"...

"I hear you, brother, he seems to be very interested in us."

"So, I'll tell you how much you and your husband love each other."

"Tell me, brother."

I am that person.

“Well, one day, when I went to Daung Nwe Swe’s house, Daung Nwe Swe was sitting on a chair in the living room with his back to the window. His wife was sitting between his knees. What were they doing? I looked and saw, “Oh.. Oh, Daung Nwe Swe is looking for Ma Myint Nwe’s hair.”

The man smiled and said, "Ah... looking for love."

I said, “How much is that? Daung Nwe Swe doesn’t throw away the millions he gets. He puts one by one in his mouth, and chews it up and down. So I said, “Huh... big guy, I’m giving you millions because I love my wife. What’s the point of chewing millions without looking for them? Are you a fortune teller and have a monkey mind?” Do you know what he said? “Ha... brother, millions are made of human flesh and blood, aren’t they? So the millions on my wife’s head are my wife’s blood and blood. That’s why I’m eating my wife’s blood and blood because I don’t want to throw them away.” I said, “I don’t believe you, just ask him,” Daung Nwe Swe laughed in delight.

What did he say after that...

"Brother, your humor is first-rate. Try writing that down somewhere," he said.

I also struggled to write appropriately in my mind, but now that he has passed away, I have to write about him according to his wishes.

Daung Nwe Swe, a great poet with a sense of humor and a sense of humor,

May you be blessed with good fortune...

(Wave)

May he become a poet again in Burmese literature.

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