I freed myself from each curtain of fog

That had covered souvenirs so thickly.

The early fallís fall of leaves in the bog,

And old footprints also gone so quickly.


Strange were grass buds in their prime;

The wind passed, left sadness anyhow.

No longer the notebooks-in-hands time

But astounded one young spring bough.


The childish love of that green period

Which was only once and I had it lost.

The worn path hurt by pebbles myriad:

That wight being absent at such a cost.


Stars over sea resembled montanes tiny;

My lipstick blurred, scalene like a stain.

The dew drops fell, I tasted them briny:

Tongue stiff, bitter life wrongly to gain.


Lamp on while lulling my child to sleep,

Void lullaby to clouds as empty breeze,

As hair changes color to dusk to sweep

I silently try to seek oblivion and ease.


Translation by THANH-THANH