Lúc xưa thường xuyên
tiệc tùng thú vị,
Tham gia
bạn bè yêu cầu mình hát góp vui…
Hát hay hay hát
không chuyên biết có sai một chút,
Về nhà tự ty xấu hổ thẹn tàm
lo lắng sao đó rồi ngủ không yên!
Ảnh fb bxl mod.
cuối tuần đông đúc rộn ràng vui,
Hát cho nhau nghe
mình cũng được đề nghị góp phần,
“Thu vàng” một bài xa xưa rất quý chưa từng đụng tới…
rồi chơi sai hết trọi cả bài,
Chẳng thắc mắc đắng đo gì
về nhà liền đánh một giấc ngon lành..
Có cái gì
khác biệt ở đây,
Hạnh “tàm-quý “ xưa và nay
lòng mình như chợt hiểu…
Chat GPT dịch *
⸻
In the Old Days
Back then, I often
joined delightful gatherings,
Friends would ask—
“Sing something for us, bring some cheer!”
Whether I sang well
or clumsily missed a note or two,
I’d return home
ashamed, uneasy,
Worrying all night, unable to sleep.
Last night at the club,
weekend crowd buzzing with joy,
We sang for each other—
they asked me again to share a song.
“Golden Autumn”,
a cherished, untouched piece from long ago…
I messed up the whole thing—every line wrong,
Yet felt no shame,
headed home and slept like a baby.
There’s something
different now and then—
The shame and pride of yesterday…
My heart suddenly sees it clearer.
Chat GPT dịch **
⸻
Then and Now
Back in the day—
parties, laughter,
friends urging me
“Sing something!”
So I did.
Maybe off-key,
maybe awkward.
Then home—
a sinking shame,
a restless night,
haunted by a faltering voice.
But last night—
the club was full,
weekend glow and pulsing beats.
Again, they asked,
“Your turn—sing one.”
“Golden Autumn”—
a song untouched for years,
a fragile relic.
I botched it all.
Every note,
every line—wrong.
But no shame.
No spiral.
Just a smile,
a good night’s sleep.
So what’s changed?
Between then and now?
Somewhere, somehow—
my heart
learned
grace.
Chat GPT dịch ***
⸻
Of Song and Shame
In days of old, when mirth was near,
I joined the feasts of friends held dear.
With cheerful hearts and laughter wide,
They bade me sing, I could not hide.
Though voice unsure and tune astray,
I sang to please, then slipped away—
And in the quiet of the night,
Was filled with shame, devoid of light.
But yesternight, midst lights and sound,
Where joy and dance and drink abound,
Again they asked a song of me,
And I, once more, sang awkwardly.
“Autumn Gold”, a cherished air,
Untouched, pristine—beyond compare—
I missed the notes, the rhythm lost,
Yet bore it with no thought, no cost.
No weight of guilt, no blush, no sigh,
I slept with stars in quiet sky.
What shift is this within my frame,
Where once was pride, and now no shame?
The heart, once chained by vain regret,
Finds peace in grace—and freedom yet.