Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Today was a good day. Frankly, most of the days, since I retired, are good days. No matter how good the day may be I think often of my dear parents who have left the empty chairs in my life. Many days we can think positive thoughts of the deceased. We can remember the fun and the smiles through our relationships. That is what I am choosing today.
One of your hairs fell out last night:
A piece of your life was gone without a sound.
I know a difficult day is coming,
My heart, pierced, utters a quiet cry.
Let my childhood smile again in the sun
And turn me into an innocent little head louse
So I can crawl through the jungle of your hair
And sing a song of darkness in its fragrance.
Under your fingernail-roof Ill sleep in my house;
In my black dream I'll water your black trees.
Ill pick black fruits, and hair-jungle bees
Will bring me black poems to be opened.
How will I live, without your hair?
How will I breathe, without its fragrance?
How will I survive, when I am discovered
By ghosts of wooden combs combing your hair?
Let me wear shaws made of dawn-flowers
And crawl without a sound into your sleep.
Ill take the place of the hair thats gone
And sing of hair-clouds flying from night to day.
Nguyen Quang Thieu
Ha Noi, Viet Nam