IT RAINS ON THE OLD RIVERSIDE

The river has turned cold, the mist having lifted,

Its current gets immerged in torrents coming from afar.

Rain is jubilantly blossoming between sky and earth

Drop following drop, the Galaxy rises star after star.

Which drops would fall on which head-waters?         

Which drops would soak old rosy cheeks with verve?

Which drops would land on whose shy hair?

Which drops would attach to what eyelashes’ curve?

Thousands of flowers spread over the stream,

The waves embrace the images of reflected clouds.

The pour agitates the face of the watercourse,

Hazy becomes the smog, shattered grow the sounds.

               Vietnamese poem by VŨ THỊ THIÊN THƯ

               English translation by  THANH-THANH