Ngày làm gì

Làm gì khi mùa xuân đương tới,
và nắng hồng ươm hoa?
Làm gì khi gió lùa kẽ tóc,
và đưa hương nàng kề ta?

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Distance keeps it wronged.

There is a feeling I cannot obtain to see the world. There is a question opening my confusion. I was not invited to this world, can I leave this without any trouble? This poem is nothing but a sear observation of rain and a blink of an eye.

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A Reply of Silence

There are break ups that do not come from within but external hands. We may regard it as such a fancy title as fate. But who shaped that fate upon people? No god. It’s people plays.

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