All the things left

Those fingers

or a gentle breeze

Those blades of grass

or the waving flowers

Those ballads

or those dance moves

started from the dying dawn

till the golden dusk.

Softly I dropped

resembling a flock of sparrow

gathering morning dew on a green meadow.

Too long too long

was the road.

All the things mysterious

I keep in my mind.

All the things left

Still are faraway.

In the dreams,

have there been so many nonsenses.

In those dreams which are perished when the new day is dawning,

has there been so much madness,

have there been so many bombastic speeches,

have there been beams of light twinkling here and there.

- What are you doing here, in this sparkling Paris?

- I am chasing these yellow butterflies.

- Didn't you go so far to this Paris for chasing stuff?

Why not trying some delicious baguette on the hill of Monmartre?

- No. I don't want to become like those Greek columns,

those solid columns supporting the weighty roofs.

Why don't pick those succulent ripe oranges

hanging down from above?

All the things left

Are not these glistenning oranges?

Please come you back when the winds have filled up the sky,

when the clouds have all melted like chocolate heating tenderly on fire.

Organic compounds are combusted.

All things are the rising smoke.

Ashes are not the things left?

I know after the storm

All the things left

Are all silence.

______________

chữ after cuối cùng đọc là ạp-tớ nghe sẽ giống thơ lục bát hơn. :D

tranh Here Comes the Flood - Rob Gonsalves.