Remembering the Writer Nguyen Mong Giac
By Phan Tan Hai
ink drained, the hand tilts, weary—
the page says its farewell;
fragrant with a century’s words,
the poet’s soul closes its eyes.
the lines lean, trembling,
the hand grows tired;
the verse exhales smoke,
chilling the page,
piercing deep into my soul;
a drop of ink rolls,
round and unending.
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