Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
I search for your voice again
Calling from past lives, a thousand nights have passed without you returning
The moon, shattered from a broken vow,
Golden light falls, jade shines, desolate on all sides…
From my wanderings,
Your sorrow, like smoke, descends upon my poetry
Golden smoke rises, drifting lazily,
Remembering the distant one, bitter on dry lips…
You, gentle… Gentle poetry
The flowing hem of your dress, a dream of the path home, The evening branches fall, cool on the embankment, Waiting to sow half a crescent moon of vows onto my shoulder, Hair like clouds, short and long strands, Binding us to the illusory tale of human life…
The moon sleeps languidly in the sky, I embrace the moon’s shadow, wordless in the middle of the night, Where can I find your soft, red heels again?
The day you gently stepped onto the threshold of my poetry…
Hoang Uyen Van
Jan., 19*2026
binhchanhsaigon
Vietnam
