Rose flowers for a few days then obsoletes;
Her aroma will be gone with the wind,
Only her shape and scent will remain
In the observer's memory.
Dear…
I searched the pleasant words for you.
But I couldn't find any!
Even if I could whisper you those words
That will be just the unintended cheat,
Because today you are the rose,
Next day your aroma will be blown away
Only haunting scent will remain in my mind.
Life…
Lonesomely encircles by friends,
Blossoms with others then vanishes.
Dear…
The universe is not our heaven.
The air of Mother Earth let us breathe
But can't help us to be immortal.
Should we wonder our evanescent shape?
Let's set our souls free!
Xaysouvanh Phengphong
7 April 2012