THE BEARING











Trilingual Poetic Spirit

Giọt nắng bn thềm

Lng du dừng bước quay về
Cố hương trong mộng đường qu vườn nh
Vch tường loang lổ từ xa
Bng in trn vch sơn đ trc đi

Gi lay rặng liễu r r
Cy tng trơ trụi l th vng kh
Ngập ngừng x cửa bước v
Bn thềm giọt nắng hồ bng ai

Vn tay ko bức mn di
Mặt trời rọi sng hnh hi trong gương
Nhn khung ảnh trn tường
Kỷ niệm vng vấn vương tất lng

Ngoi vườn cy sứ nở bng
Chim khuyn ru rt bập bồng my bay
Nhớ ngy xưa ấy sum vầy
Gia đnh đon tụ đắm say n tnh

Hắn buồn thơ thẩn đứng nhn
Mi m xy mộng nh mnh dấu yu.





Les rayons du soleil sur les marches de la porte

Son ombre est tombe sur la brique murs,
la forme sombre n'a pas montr de visage du tout,
envie de souvenirs de l'aim,
la maison autrefois remplie de gens, avec amour.

Les rayons du soleil le suivirent dans la pice.
Le flux de lumire a montr la poussire fleurir.
Il a tir la fentre des rideaux larges
et l'a vu dans le miroir, multipli.

Le chne avait l'air mince sous la lumire du soleil,
avec les feuilles d'or qui dansaient dans l'air,
coulant avec le vent et tournant dans le sens des aiguilles d'une montre.
Le manche du manche cass se tenait seul.

Il s'est retourn, la photo de famille
accroch au mur, regardant vers l'avenir,
ramener les souvenirs son esprit.
Il a balay, les larmes coulaient pendant un certain temps.

La maison, l'me, l'amour et la famille,
il fera de cet endroit une maison adorable.

(Gracieuset de Google Translate)




SUNRAYS ON THE DOORSTEP

by Thong Ba Le

(Had been selected to publish in The International Society Of Poets - www.poetry.com
Edition: "America At The Millennium")


His shadow fell on the crumbling brick walls,
the dark shape did not show a face at all,
longing for memories of the beloved,
the house once filled with people, with love.

The sunrays followed him into the room.
The stream of light showed the dust to bloom.
He pulled the window curtains wide
and saw him in the mirror, multiplied.

The oak tree looked slim under the sunlight,
with the golden leaves that danced in the air,
flowing with the wind and turning clockwise.
The broken handle rake stood lonely by.

He turned around, the family picture
hanging on the wall, looking to the future,
to bring the memories back to his mind.
He swept, tears were running down for awhile.

The house, the soul, the love and the family,
he will make this place a sweet home to be.