Back home, I resume my love of chrysanthemums.

Red tansies, yellow tansies, do bloom as a whole

With their colors so radiant as when spring comes;

But this place seems to lack the flower of my soul.


I hold a white nice chrysanthemum in my hand,

The poor solitary blossom in this ephemeral state:

Clouds and flowers appear fallen in a forlorn land

Since my sweetheart and me are already separate.


The old lover used a purple tie to bind her hair rap;

Her violet dress suddenly caused spring to frown;

The poem-woven conical hat with purple silk strap

And the pagoda purple tansies imbrued the sundown.


So vast was my fancy addiction to this flower kind!

Alas, time has passed further and further, it by rolled.

The fragrance excites the recollections in my mind.

Which hue could replace my chrysanthemum of old?


Translation by THANH-THANH