BACK TO MY SORRENTO

I was visiting my old house this afternoon.
I was trying to find the familiar images.
Ah, this was the yellow cherry tree at the alley's entrance
and this was your house, the house with the yellow cherry tree.
But no, this was not that yellow cherry tree
and this was not your house either.
The old yellow cherry tree had been full of flowers throughout spring
and of green leaves year round.
Not like this one which was so bare.
I used to like your old house very much,
the beautiful blue house at the alley's entrance.
Every time I went past it,
my heart beat faster because of excitement.
Not like this one which was so mossy and faded.
Especially this house doesn't have a young girl
so innocent, so beautiful,
with velvet eyes
that made me crazy about for a long time.
That house was not mine either:
it was rebuilt and repainted.
Twenty years have passed, that's right, no wonder.
Even myself, I am not the boy I used to be.
While I was staring at your old house,
A woman came out and asked:
"Who are you looking for?"
I startled and walked away.
I knew that she wouldn't know,
otherwise I would ask her:
Peach, my old-day Peach,
used to live here.
Now where is she?
Is she still beautiful, still innocent?
Or her eyes are now full of sorrow?

Hoang Hai Ho