Đà Lạt, October 16, 1965
Dao Ánh,
This morning I woke up late. The brown horse had already returned to the front garden — the garden of the new house on the hill that Cường and I just moved into a few days ago.
There are many flowers in the garden: mimosa, cosmos, roses, sunflowers.
I’m still here and haven’t gone back to Blao. Maybe your letter has already arrived there.
This morning, the rain fell cold and quiet. My hands have been freezing all day, like blocks of ice.
Vân is in the room next door. All day long, he sits there, deep in thought, murmuring to himself.
People these days seem to have lost their place in the world — like the ground beneath them has shifted. Every day brings heavier worries. People no longer feel passionate about life. No one has the courage to truly care about anything. I feel the same — wanting to throw everything away, to disappear into silence, and wait to be forgotten.
Lately, we hardly go into town. We just buy a little bread each day, chew on it, then sleep until late afternoon, only stepping out again for dinner. It’s a way of living that feels like a stain of sorrow.
I still think of you very often, but sometimes I don’t know what to write. I can’t just keep saying day after day that I miss you deeply — you’d get tired of hearing it.
Has the rainy season started in Huế yet, Ánh?
Here, whenever I walk past the lake, the wind cuts into me and makes me curl up. The garden is green now. But I find it hard to imagine ever recapturing the freshness it once had. Time passes so quickly, and sadness keeps layering itself on like rough bark darkening an old tree.
In a little while, I’ll go into the garden and pick some mimosa flowers to send you.
The horse, now full, is resting by the rosebush.
Cường and Tịnh are asleep. So is Vân. And Sâm. And Nam. Everyone is caught up in their own lives. So even with many people around, I still feel like I’m outside of it all. Each voice seems to vanish into empty space.
Tomorrow, I’ll return to Blao — only to feel even more worn down. Worn down like a little worm living inside the dry shell of a tree.
/Trịnh Công Sơn/
Thank you for reading my sharing, hopefully it has brought more or less useful value to you.
- Sky -