There’s a sound of a bird fading into the far distance

There’s a season of red Jiracanda flowers suddenly forgotten

There’s passions that no longer burn

A few drops of sadness falling in the night

The laurel tree in the garden corner 

blooms bright white flowers

Its fragrance spread with late night dewdrops falling

A wide world in a little corner, 

the tree stretch its branches and leaves

Who knows that the wind will be going to somewhere faraway…

Certain feelings lie quietly in my heart,

I will no longer mention them

The cup of dream, illusionary and cold on my lips

The moonlight, under the lake, quietly sleeps

There’s only golden autumn blowing the leaves ...

translated by Vuong Thanh