Last Lines of Poetry

Not many words left for you my lips become icy days and nights freeze on my skin, on my head, on my shoulders, on my back, and on every strand of white hair tonight... New year comes through the window, blows chilly wind into my bones, quivers my every cell, and shakes my legs... My hands softly try to grasp every day, catching the still-far-away joy... You should watch carefully to see that the fog tonight becomes my breaths, that the midnight moon is your face among the stars fading away... Not many words left for you I sit under the moonlight, write down until no ink remains, and see my last words soak in fog and smoke... my last lines of poetry in my life now become gifts for you and tomorrow I will live a homeless life, wandering under the light of moon and stars no more words in my life when the sky becomes a piece of paper, when the flying stars become ink lines and when you become the moon... By Phan Tan Hai