Fantasy

Poet Thach Quy. Photo: Hai Vuong

Yes, that means it's not wrong.

There's no such thing as the right one.

The eye likes the moon and the honey disc.

My stomach only craves rice crackers.

Buddhist poet, pharmacist

Tiled roof house, bamboo house, wooden house

Every house feels like our own.

Built with joy, anger, love, and hatred!

Accept the price of those petty birds.

Why be sad about goose feathers and human blood?

What joy is there in this fleeting, dusty life?

The drizzle makes the grass grow lush again.

Longing and waiting for each other turned us to stone.

I thought that was the end of it.

Which stone can remain in its place as a stone?

Some days it turns as white as lime!

In the end, I was left alone.

I too have become a statue.

He was left alone in the late afternoon.

A journey into the realm of fantasy./.