Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Lan Anh
I call to you through a fragile wind,
Across distances shaped by unspoken things.
My love does not seek a blazing moon—
only a quiet breeze
that knows the way to your heart.
Musharraf
I call to you through seasons unborn,
wearing memory as shelter,
and longing as my name.
My love does not return to what was—
it fears the waves
may take you away from me.
Lan Anh
I call to you in the depth of night,
where time drifts like a trembling dream.
Flowers still bloom across distances—
just as my heart
continues to lean toward you.
Musharraf
I call to you through silence itself,
through winds that refuse to be named.
My love does not search for distant horizons—
only for a place
where you still remember me.
Lan Anh
I call to you as I am,
within a darkness where no one else remains.
I do not ask what tomorrow will bring—
only that today
you are still there.
Musharraf
I call to you with all that remains of me,
even as the world shifts with every breath.
My love is like a returning wind—
it always finds its way
back to where you wait.
Together
If the waves rise higher than all our fears,
if distance stretches into endless time,
we will remain—
not as two distant shores,
but as one returning tide,
meeting again and again
in quiet eternity,
loving—
as though the world itself
was created only to hold this.
Copyright Reserved © Musharraf Hussain & Thi Lan Anh Tran.
