WHAT I WILL NOT TELL YOU
The night is ill
The moon nurses
Drunken cloud
Wanders ahead
Wind pretends
Great busyness
Rain cries his eyes out
In a worried night
Crowd in your door
Doubt if to go: in or out.
Far road
Moon grants wings to me
I collect dry petals
of last year’s flowers
to bury under them
the distance of my longing
Poem by
Lam Quang My
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