\u201cToday we part, when will we meet again? I still dream of that reunion\u2026\u201d<\/em> Everything was silent, every corner soaked in the melancholy of separation.<\/p>\nI started the engine and drove off. On either side of the road, the end-of-season grass had already begun to yellow; autumn was not far away now. I wondered what was going through her small, busy mind. Did she think of me the way I thought of her? Did she feel this pang of longing the way I did now?<\/p>\n
The small wooden house by the pine grove silently welcomed me home. I opened the door, letting the pale morning light spill into a room brimming with memories. Her fragrance still lingered faintly in the corners.<\/p>\n
Stepping into the bedroom, everything was just as it had been that morning. I collapsed onto the bed, pulling up the blanket she had used the night before, as if trying to catch the last warmth she\u2019d left behind. I reached for the nightstand drawer, pulling out the two letters she had written me. Two letters yet they felt like one \u2014 the same gentle lines, the same familiar handwriting, the same words I had read and reread a hundred times over. And yet I asked myself again: would fate be kind enough for us to meet once more? Half dreaming, half awake, I drifted into sleep without knowing exactly when.<\/p>\n
When I woke, the sluggish light spilling through the half-open window told me it was already late afternoon. I wandered into the living room and poured myself a glass of the same wine she had tasted the night before. Her laughter echoed faintly when I remembered her giggling at my silly jokes. I lifted the glass to my lips, tilting my head back to drink it all in one go. The warmth of the wine burned down my throat, thawing parts of my memory that were beginning to fossilize inside me.<\/p>\n
A sudden urge struck me to write a poem. I moved to the familiar wooden desk, set the glass aside, switched on the desk lamp, took out my pen and paper, and sat down to begin. \u201cIf fate allows, we shall meet again.\u201d I had once laughed while reading that line, once held it tight to my chest with trembling hands, once memorized it like a silent prayer for lonely nights. But now, it felt like a dull knife slowly carving away what little hope remained.<\/p>\n
I lit another cigarette; the smoke mingled with the old wood, the pine scent drifting through the window, and the faint trace of her hair\u2019s fragrance that refused to vanish. I stubbed out the cigarette, took up my pen \u2014 and from deep within, words began to tremble their way out.<\/p>\n
\u201cSeeing you off, I hear sorrow rush back in haste\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nOne line slipped out, like a sigh I had been suppressing all the way home. After that, each word flowed freely, crisp yet saturated with smoke and regret:<\/p>\n
\u201cOne word of love, yet spoken endlessly, still feels so shy\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nI glanced out the window. The late summer dusk dyed the western sky a deep gold; the pine shoots quivered gently in the breeze. Clouds overhead drifted like wandering birds, floating off toward some distant blue. Everything conspired to deepen the sadness pressing against my ribs. I dipped my pen again and continued:<\/p>\n
\u201cIn the blue sky, white clouds too seem to linger
\nDrifting lazily above the autumn garden of falling leaves\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cWe had just met, and now already two paths apart,
\nAnd this afternoon again drags us worlds away.
\nThe heartbeat of love still echoes inside my chest,
\nYet your shadow has vanished into the distance of a thousand miles\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nI remembered her gentle gaze, her shy smile, her arms wrapped around me at the airport gate \u2014 I lifted my glass, drank away my longing, then bent down and wrote on:<\/p>\n
\u201cSeeing you off, I feel veins of grief swell heavy
\nI wish to burst open along with the sun\u2019s tearful ray
\nOn the road home, even flowers and leaves seem lost
\nThey stand bewildered in the pale, withering hue of late autumn.”<\/p>\n“All know this human life is fleeting and fragile
\nHow could our love ever know where it shall rest
\nWho does not wish for a love deep-rooted and enduring
\nThough separated by two distant skies of longing?”<\/p>\n
“Seeing you off, suddenly my heart aches and wonders
\nCould this be the last time, my love, tell me so
\nWhat shall we do with all these memories and forgetting
\nWhen trees stand bare by the edge of mist and wind?”<\/p>\n
“I know we shall keep to two lonely skies apart
\nEach with a single pillow and blanket, dreaming of each other
\nStill, I hope we shall yet have another chance
\nAs winter ends, spring will return once more to this earth.”<\/em><\/p>\n
Each line was a fresh scratch across old scars. I remembered the moment she squeezed my hand on the cold airport step, her eyes not yet empty of sadness before turning away too soon. I remembered her breath warming my neck the night before, her slender shoulder trembling lightly in restless sleep. I dreaded that someday I would forget these things, just as I had forgotten so many fleeting dreams when youth slipped away in a hurry.<\/p>\n
The sheet of paper before me was now full. I drained the last of my wine and felt the storm inside me calm, if only a little. I knew I would wait again, hope again, soothe myself once more with that line \u2014 \u201cIf fate allows\u2026\u201d \u2014 on nights when the wind whispers through the trees and grass above my roof. And I knew that even if she never returned, I would still have enough courage to write on, keeping her alive within me, blooming again and again through words that refuse to die.<\/p>\n
I laid down my pen, leaned back in my chair, eyes half-closed. The final curl of cigarette smoke hovered in the room, circling like her shadow, like the echo of her laughter fading down the hallway. I read the poem again to myself, slowly, as if reciting a prayer:<\/p>\n
\u201cSeeing you off, sorrow veins pulse heavy,
\nI want to burst along with the sun\u2019s tearful ray\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nOutside the window, night had begun to softly drape itself over the pine woods. The first beads of dew clung to the glass pane. In this room now, there was only me \u2014 and the poem, fragile proof of a love that had hurried past, leaving me here to cradle my longing in one more farewell.\/-<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
CH\u01af\u01a0NG BA \u2014 TH\u00caM M\u1ed8T L\u1ea6N \u0110\u01afA TI\u1ec4N Sau khi b\u00f3ng n\u00e0ng m\u1ea5t h\u00fat sau c\u00e1nh c\u1eeda phi tr\u01b0\u1eddng, t\u00f4i bu\u1ed3n b\u00e3 b\u01b0\u1edbc ch\u1eadm v\u1ec1 ch\u1ed7 \u0111\u1eadu xe. Gi\u00f3 s\u1edbm phi tr\u01b0\u1eddng se l\u1ea1nh l\u00f9a v\u00e0o ng\u01b0\u1eddi khi\u1ebfn n\u1ed7i tr\u1ed1ng tr\u1ea3i b\u00ean trong c\u00e0ng loang r\u1ed9ng h\u01a1n. C\u00f3 cu\u1ed9c chia ly n\u00e0o kh\u00f4ng bu\u1ed3n. B\u01b0\u1edbc […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,23,4,17],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17750"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=17750"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17750\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17918,"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17750\/revisions\/17918"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=17750"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=17750"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thovanyenson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=17750"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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