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Thread: The Seasons

  1. #721
    windy path passenger's Avatar
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    A petite story of a hand
    *


    Mister Cardinal đã lâu không thấy, sáng nay bỗng dưng ghé về thăm, hỏi:"Something new? Something new?"
    Tôi cười:"Yes, there is. Want to hear it?"

    Tôi kể cho mister Cardinal nghe về một Saturday sweet wedding trong thị trấn. Hình ảnh người cha walking down the aisle with the charming bride khiến mister Cardinal cảm động. He sighs:"A hand gave away a hand to an other hand. Sad but lovely! Did that remind you about something?"
    - Circle of hands?
    Mister Cardinal chirps:
    - Tôi muốn hỏi về những bàn tay xưa của you ấy! Where are they now?
    - My hand is still mine. I don't know about the others'. They might keep searching or holding some different hands somewhere on Earth.
    - Is it cold & empty?
    - Huh??
    - Your hand ấy!
    - Oh, my hand! Is it supposed to be cold & empty?

    Gắt:
    - Of course, when there's nobody around to hold it.
    Nháy:
    - No hand to hold mine but mine is busy holding my ink pen now, how's that?
    Lẩm bẩm:
    - Pen is not hand. They're totally different things.
    Ah, cái vương miện đỏ trên đầu đang bắt đầu chuyển sang màu huyết dụ. Có lẽ cần phải trêu thêm một chút nữa thì mới đủ tone thẫm cho một giọt red wine.
    - When I write lung tung with my pen, there's always a very warm hand holding mine. Imagine/Imagine, hello!
    Cáu:
    - Whose hand is that? Does it really make you feel?
    - Extremely & wonderfully! You'd never understand that kind of feeling if you're so lacked of imagination. Well, I don't blame you since you're just a bird.


    Thế là giận.
    Thế là chirp-chirp mấy tiếng sắc lẻm rồi bay vù lên tuốt ngọn cây JRM bên hồ nước.
    Tôi nghĩ he needs a hand (or an index finger) to pet (or to tickle) his trouble soul.
    Mine is occupied with the vu-vơ-words mà you đang đọc.

    So sozzy, my very dear mister ưa giận lẫy!
    Tôi biết mister đang rất nhớ nhung một "người" đã bay đi xa ơi là xa từ mùa xuân trước.
    Như tôi cũng đang nhớ ơi là nhớ một người...
    Much.

    Immensely.

    Pink

  2. #722
    windy path passenger's Avatar
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    ...Hoa đào bay trong gió
    Em bay theo dấu chân người...


  3. #723

  4. #724
    windy path passenger's Avatar
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    Do not stand at my grave and weep
    I am not there, I do not sleep
    I am in a thousand winds that blow
    I am the softly falling snow
    I am the gentle showers of rain
    I am the fields of ripening grain
    I am in the morning hush
    I am in the graceful rush
    Of beautiful birds in circling flight
    I am the starshine of the night
    I am in the flowers that bloom
    I am in a quiet room
    I am in the birds that sing
    I am in each lovely thing

    Do not stand at my grave and cry
    I am not there
    I do not die

    Mary Elizabeth Frye


  5. #725

 

 

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