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What? This is... No.
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Love is real, isn't it?
The only things that are real to me
Are the things that I can't touch
The only love that is real to me
Is someone I can't hold
Time will slip through my fingers
Everything will fade away
Gradually and abruptly
Just like watching a movie
Before I become numb
To all the beautiful and sad things
Let me come to my own end
Like a courageous coward
Is my life a mistake?
Again and again
I can't help myself
From being untrue to others
The most honest thing
That I can ever do
Is to disappear forever
Between the pages of my fantasy
In there I can find love
Someone I put on a pedestal
The only saint, the only angel
In the midst of consuming mundanity
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I was there
I am here, alone
Imprisoned by my own thoughts
Spiral, spiral
Which I can't get out of
My depression gradually escalates
Into unbearable suicidal mood
The central Thought
That governs all other thoughts
Is Death
Intentional or unintentional
It doesn't matter
As long as it comes
And beheads my mind,
The neglectful master
Who lets cynical, pessimistic weeds
Grow out of control
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The gift of colors By Nana Tran
The sky is infinitely blue
The sun is scorching goldenly
The moon is coldly pale, illuminating
The lake, translucent and still,
On which, the twinkling silvery stars, brightly lit, are reflected
Roses are shrilly crimson, as if they are dyed by blood
Calling out to perseverant brownish stones, as old as the earth
"Hey! How are you? Let's be immersed in golden flecks of sunlight"
Oh, beautiful colors! Precious existences!
Miraculously soothe the most agitated soul
Always bring joy to us, human beings,
Who open our eyes, to take in all shades of colors
The ones who can perceive all colors
In all forms in nature, intuitively
Are the natural born artists
Who understand life.
How grateful I am
For being able to see the world
Of alluring colors,
Once.
Now that my sight is gone,
All left is unfathomable darkness
In which I meditate
And contemplate on my past wrong doings.
Oh, I was an utter devil
Who knew nothing
Except my sadistic enjoyment
I have no one to blame
But myself
For being punished with blindness.
I rob myself of
The ability to see
And appreciate
This colorful world.
No matter how remorseful
I am,
It can't redeem me
And make me a new whole being.
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Wedding night-By Han Mac Tu-Translated by Nana Tran
Be a silk thread, too flimsy?
Be numerous gems, still not equal
All and the world don't seem to exist
A shade of love is a shade of newness.
Is there a time when she dreamed
Of commencing a poetic life from then on
With that night, as smooth as pouring
Honey words into her ears, surprisingly sweet.
But fragrant things have come near
I dread passion might die down
No more initial subtlety
Will be bored and stultified.
So I thought that the wedding night
Not yet to come, still far away, so that I can be saddened,
Live in the state of longing,
And vaguely visualize the beauty.
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Envy-By Han Mac Tu-Translated by Nana Tran
I throw myself into the wind and the moon
My heart is scattered in four directions
Cloud nine is a strange place
How can a swallow fly to its destination?
The boat waits for a night of the moon
Millions of starlights illuminate dazzlingly on a straight line
Millions of fragrant incense threads flying puzzledly
Millions of deities living high
The minute, alas! The root of ultimate bliss.
My love envies pleasure boundlessly
Who give voice and give form to the treasures?
Parched tongue, no more craving.
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Imitate- By Han Mac Tu- Translated by Nana Tran
Let the flowers and the wind murmur
Let the cloud and the water be flustered
Do you forget the words of longing?
Dear, why is it?
When the fragrance nears the mouth hole
When love has just touched love
Dear, why is it?
The moon is lying on the waves of grass
The grass jests with the moon approaching a pond
The moon is drenched in water
The moon and the water silently look at each other...
How about we imitate them?
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Dream of flowers- By Han Mac Tu- Translated by Nana Tran
Incense smoke diffuses gently, impregnating the air
Melancholic minutes infect golden dreams
The blouse today is too formal
Dare to embrace the chrysanthemum spirit in fog
Let's water the flower with drops of warm tears,
Each petal counts for a tender love
Let's bury the fragments of whithered spring,
And let's bury deep inside at the bottom of the heart.
The maiden's shadow is shrouded in dreams
In leaves, in flowers blurred by smoke and dust
Don't keep silent, please express
Strange amorous intentions, poetic words.
Let's kneel and stay on: the sound of the stars falling
Brandish bluish moonlight, disturbing the air
The wind breathes or the flower breathes?
Well! Human, jade, sea exhale.
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Visionary- By Han Mac Tu-Translated by Nana Tran
Just growing up, the moon is abashed
Fragrant like the love of a nun
The wind, drunk and saturated, in light color
Flowers as well as I are superficially touched
While miracle enshrouds the night,
Something falls into the middle of silence
Falling from the higher layer of the atmosphere
The gentle echo reverberates in my heart.
I and flower spirit are still hushed,
Surreptitiously exchanging affections
To warm up the source of day-dream
For the shade of the night sky to be startled less
From the first watch to the fourth watch
I see the dreamy moon transform like
Incense-smoke from somewhere outside dreamland
It becomes more poetic with each minute passing
The moonlight is so thin that it can't conceal
The paleness of the surface of the lake
The sorrowfulness of the willow drooping
The entreat of nothingness.
The space is so dense, and full of the moon
I am the moon, and she is also the moon
Each picture and each image makes things more faraway and vague
Can what I say be heard by her who is too distant?
Huyền ảo
Mới lớn lên trăng đã thẹn thò
Thơm như tình ái của ni cô
Gió say lướt mướt trong màu sáng
Hoa với tôi đều cảm động sơ
Đang khi màu nhiệm phủ ban đêm
Có thứ gì rơi giữa khoảng im
Rơi tự thượng tầng không khí xuống
Tiếng vang nhè nhẹ dội vào tim.
Tôi với hồn hoa vẫn nín thinh
Ngấm ngầm trao đổi những ân tình
Để thêm ấm áp nguồn tơ tưởng
Để bóng trời khuya bớt giật mình.
Từ đầu canh một đến canh tư
Tôi thấy trăng mơ biến hoá như
Hương khói ở đâu ngoài xứ mộng
Cứ là mỗi phút mỗi nên thơ
Ánh trăng mỏng quá không che nổi
Những vẻ xanh xao của mặt hồ
Những nét buồn buồn tơ liễu rủ
Những lời năn nỉ của hư vô.
Không gian dầy đặc toàn trăng cả
Tôi cũng trăng mà nàng cũng trăng
Mỗi ảnh mỗi hình thêm phiếu diễu
Nàng xa xôi quá nói nghe chăng ?
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Ripe spring- By Han Mac Tu- Translated by Nana Tran
In the half-ripe sunshine: dreamy smoke melts,
Two roofs of huts are flecked with yellow.
Rustling wind teases azure laps of dress,
On the frame of fragrant cynanthe, the shade of spring comes.
The waves of grass, so verdant, ripple toward the sky.
So many country girls sing on the hill.
-Tomorrow among that crowd of youth,
Someone will follow her husband, abandoning the game.
The singing voice perches itself halfway down the mountain
Panting like the words of water clouds
Whisper with someone under an ivory bamboo,
Sound meaningful and innocent.
A visitor from faraway meet ripe spring
Dazed with natural sights, he suddenly long for his village:
"-My elder sister, this year still carries rice,
Along the white river where the sun is blazing..."
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Moonlight -by Han Mac Tu- translated by Nana Tran
How joyous the moonlight scene is!
Love starts to inflate
Fragrant flowers are silent
The scent floats quiveringly on the air
My dear is panting
Her blouse is yellow-blotched
My dear, have you understand?
That is a love song
Lifted by soft breath
On the silk cords
Of her tempestuous heart
When she starts to ape dreaming
Tonight the moon reaches the right age
This year she reaches puberty
Can't help being attached
To the flowers and the wind passionately
She, my dear, still contemplates
Not yet to open her mouth...
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Time- By Han Mac Tu- Translated by Nana Tran
There is no more magnificient unripe time
The fragance of a love
Is hard to find among layers of dust
There is more or less the scent of faithfulness.
Don't think that old times are still wafting
In the place where there is breeze at night
Old souls from then haven't come back
In nihility region, the trace is submerged.
Only the moon and the stars are undying
All other things pass by
Xi Shi, how old are you?
The bewitching beauty is still velvety.
I pray to all the stars, right!
Please, don't rotate so that time
Slows down for my beloved
To still preserve the fresh color of a beautiful girl.
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Drunk on sunshine- By Han Mac Tu- Translated by Nana Tran
The sun of that morning is blazing
She, a fairy, relishes the cool wind on Cham island
The smell of sapodillas is like fragrant lotuses
Her blouse: dyed by pinkish sunshine, not yet dried
Suddenly the inside is deadly silent
What smell is so overwhelming that I pretend to be drunk
The wind, please, come here to prevent
I stand so far away, so please spare me
My soul is abashed, for
I am not acquanited with appreciating intoxicating things
Like goldening sunlight
Like poetry about to reveal love
In this place, the cloud and the wind are weary
What is the intention of the fairy who measures my love?
I intend to drink sunlight
I intend to bite the smile in the chinks.
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Quote
My life is a reading list.
John Irving (via bookmania)
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Photo
Twins Mei Lun and Mei Huan at Zoo Atlanta in Georgia, US.
© Zoo Atlanta.
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Lost soul's sanctuary
I'm a lost soul
In search of a sanctuary
Where I can be at rest
All worries, dissolved
Where is my haven?
Does it even exist?
How can I find it?
Why does it elude me?
There is a place
Only I can access
It can be hell
It can be heaven
A figment of imagination
Will preserve my quiescence
Unleash a new source
Of immanent tranquility
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