The Seasons

[passenger]

...all I can hear is the sound of my beating heart...*

[passenger]

...bụi vướng ngang đầu mong nhớ mong...*

[passenger]

...'til the moon is but a silver shell...*

[passenger]

...meets the one that does not care...*

[passenger]

Let your sorrow take wings
Let your heart ever sing love
As you cherish the memory of our love
That a dove may bring*

[passenger]

Lines Written in Early Spring

I heard a thousand blended notes
While in a grove I sate reclined
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes

The birds around me hopped and played
Their thoughts I cannot measure
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure

The budding twigs spread out their fan
To catch the breezy air
And I must think, do all I can
That there was pleasure there

If this belief from heaven be sent
If such be Nature’s holy plan
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man

William Wordsworth
(1770-1850)

[passenger]

*esp. for that sad little girl in you!



On the quiet street in the city
A little old man walked alone
Shuffling through the autumn afternoon
And the autumn leaves reminded him
Another summer's come and gone
He had long lonely nights ahead waiting for June

Then among the leaves near an orphan's home
A piece of paper caught his eyes
And he stooped to pick it up with trembling hands
As he read the childish writing
The old man began to cry
'Cause the words burned inside him like a brand

"Whoever finds this, I love you!
Whoever finds this, I need you!
I ain't even got no one to talk to.
So, whoever finds this, I love you!"

Well, the old man's eyes searched the orphan's home
And came to rest upon a child
With her nose pressed up against the window pane
And the old man knew he'd found a friend at last
So he waved at her and smiled
And they both knew they'd spend the winter
Laughing at the rain

And they did spend the winter laughing at the rain
Talking through the fence
Exchanging little gifts they've made for each other
The old man would carve toys
And the little girl would draw pictures of beautiful ladies for him
And they laughed a lot

But then one day on the first of June
The little girl ran to the fence, the old man wasn't there
And somehow she knew he was never coming back
So she went back to her little room
Took a crayon, and wrote:

"Whoever finds this, I love you!
Whoever finds this, I need you!
I ain't even got no one to talk to.
So, whoever finds this, I love you!"

[passenger]

"New friends may be poems but old friends are alphabets.
Don't forget the alphabets because you will need them to read the poems."

*William Shakespeare

[passenger]

...que reste-t-il de ces beaux jours...*

[passenger]

E ngại ngày hôm nay đánh mất
Hạnh phúc nôn nao để đợi chờ
Ngây ngô tay nếu vô tình chạm
Xuống lả lơi tình trong giấc mơ

*ukn-A