Ky Niem

My man HML brings back the timeless memories:

I wish to find once more those days of old,
The moon rising to the top of the areca palms,
By the storm lamp mother sat sewing,
While father read his daily paper.
The streets were deserted,
And in the dry stillness of the night,
I could hear the faint whistle of the train.

Translated by Trong Do

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