Nguyễn Hữu Toàn


As I suddenly stumbl’ upon this verse

That arouses in me this unknown lust,

With inky hand, I reach for pieces of paper

And write gracefully as the fall of a feather.

But as muddy thoughts coming hither and thither

My head, in fear, shakes and titers

My nerves tensed, and my veins terse

My temple sweats, sweats fall – how tender!

Ah… thus ‘tis, ‘tis proves so much,

The poetic spirit, of such and such

(That no matter how willfully we resist)

Without aesthesis, poetry is humbug!
I have ever seen someone who has a lifestyle which is so beautiful as you.
What does aesthesis mean?
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