Maze of Dreams
By Phan Tan Hai
The city streets rise in layered mazes—
once, you forgot the way home;
I sat a hundred years like a mountain,
watching the rain drag itself across the town.
Storms would not cease across the sky;
clouds returned, blurred with my longing for you;
sun and rain slipped into my sleep,
so that day grew as cold as night.
Leaves fell, carrying autumn into summer;
I pretended I had never known you,
to live again like in childhood days,
like the day we first met and asked each other’s names.
Your laughter felt strangely familiar—
an echo from a former life in my soul,
like the sound of a shattered mirror long ago,
white hair still dreaming it was green.
My steps moved on, still hesitant;
you pretended to call me by the wrong name;
sleep still carried its old fragrance,
and the moon’s blue glow lingered in my eyes.
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