THE WRITERS POST
VOLUME 8 NUMBER 2
†††††††††† TRAN YEN THAO
†† ††††††††THE WHITE CLOUDY ROAD
In the early morn, I ask a white cloudy road.
Endlessly where has the white cloud been afloat?
The youth asked the white hairís way.
Bamboo-cane makes the brown flap throw away
Over the brush woods, the former country is the forest†
That allís out-of-the-way in the sunset
while seeking after me. I came back to the old land,
Let time forget a strange visitor in the mirrorís silhouette.
At half way, the load of faithful love broke.
Who returned to the dust, who was in the fog?
Coldly I put on cloak of tutor
Since eternity, Iíve felt ruinous.
When waking, the roses havenít been gorgeous yet
and nobody yet passed by track.
The path is still very far to the mountain.
†I return home and get the old fragrance.
††††††††††††††††††††††††††† TRAN YEN THAO
The Writers Post
founded 1999, based in the US.
Editorial note: Works published in this issue are simultaneously published in the printed Wordbridge magazine (ISSN: 1540-1723).
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