At the end of the meadows, the entrance to the forest,
Once there was a lane that traveled under trees canopies,
Bordered by fragrant grass where danced spring lilies,
A path of strewn golden leaves in the fall,
Meandering through mossy bushes and murmuring gleaming streams.
On that path, I was a child guest,
In mornings sparkled with sunny beams,
In evenings lost in fairy tale dreams,
Heart innocent, bouncing spirit, crystal soul,
Eyes filled with the nature beauties of Father God and Mother Earth,
A world of charismatic music and fantastic sceneries,
A kingdom of laughter, joy and unparalleled mirth.
Sadly, the war came, the country went in flames, rubbles, debris.
We fled the countryside, seeking refuge in the crowded cities.
Banning sights and sounds of human wrath,
My mind held the vision of the forest delightful path,
My heart aching for the fragrance of the pristine nature,
All and everything untouched and pure.
Twenty years flew by with the sounds of bombs, the sights of fire,
People and friends coming and departing from my life,
The day of a reprieve, a hopeful ceasefire,
I returned to my native home by the woods,
Revisited my world of childhood.
The forest path was nowhere to be found,
Overgrown bushes and trees covered the ground,
Dimming the sunshine through the canopies,
Yet, in the distance, the breeze carried the river’s melody,
In soothing nostalgic remembrance,
Bringing back pictures of rainbow dew and water lilies dances,
Music of hanging willows caressing the water in moves splashing and flirting,
While birds chirped, crickets sang.
With memory's eyes on the past, heart half joyful, half mourning,
I dug my way through choke thickets, crisscrossed branches,
On the flowery bank, in grassy ferns, overwhelmed with nature fragrance,
I relived my dreams of the un-shattered time of childhood innocence.
Huỳnh Anh Trần-Schroeder
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