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Đăng bởi Phan Quốc Vũ vào 14/07/2023 20:51
Moving. Moving. Moving. A passionate love
Speaking. Speaking. Speaking. The words of honey
The honey ears long and long
I liked a fragrance on your flesh
Oh, the red river lips floating!
Poetry. Music. Painting. All of things were the memories
Running out of me
A lonely soul
Love. Log. Dream. Oh it was me to die of you
A whitish skin like pure ice
And the sparkling bud with the first dream
I wrote for what the poems that not ending
Galloping my soul, a sentiment of loving
Dancing. Dancing. Dancing. I took you into the door of love
Where only two we were wonderful and beautiful
Nobody could see us
Rose. Rose. Only rose of you, a nice shape
I inclined on the ashamed lips and eyes
Spring. Spring. Spring. The season of couple love
We were the small birds flying
I would be a long song and a long poem, we were firing up
With thousands of flowers and bees and butterflies moving
The white clouds pouring the hair
Like your virgin taking sunbath in the sky
Jumping. Jumping. Jumping. We were flying in the wind
The wings of angels following the drunkard sun
We were waving the four seas, it was immense!
Oh, love of youth were lasting strength!
Suddenly now we are older than the germ of the bean
Listening to the falling Autumn
Nothing can return to the old days
For us regretting the times when loving each other.