Tình em sao vẫn bơ vơ
Giữa cơn mưa buồn
Yêu người trong muôn ngàn thương
nhớ tiếng yêu vắng xa
Làm sao quên câu hát trên môi cười dở dang
Yêu làm chi mùa thu đã rơi bằng lối đi
Từng giọt nắng đã gởi nhớ thương
trong khúc nhạc êm đềm
Tình yêu đã phai
Đừng có chờ mong
Sao ngàn năm em vẫn mơ ước được bên người
Trên giòng sông thao thức cho giấc mộng ngày mai
Tình bao năm vẫn mong manh
Bóng đêm mơ màng
Yêu người cho mưa sầu giăng kính bóng đêm lẻ loi
Từ nay em xin hát cho bao mộng ước xưa
Yêu người cho màu hạnh phúc muôn đời vẫn yêu
Từng giọt nắng đã gởi nhớ thương
trong khúc nhạc êm đềm
Tình yêu đã phai
Đừng có chờ mong
Sao ngàn năm em vẫn mơ ước được bên người
Trên giòng sông thao thức cho giấc mộng ngày mai
- Nhạc ngoại quốc
- Lời Việt: Khúc Lan
April 14, 2009
April 13, 2009
Niệm Khúc Cuối
Dù cho mưa tôi xin đưa em đến cuối cuộc đời
Dù cho mây hay cho bảo tố có kéo qua đây
Dù có gió, có gió lạnh đầy, có tuyết bùn lầy
Có lá buồn gầy, dù sao, dù sao đi nữa tôi vẫn yêu em
Dựa vai nhau cho nhau yên vui ấm áp cuộc đời
Tìm môi nhau, cho nhau rã nát, rã nát tim đau
Vừa đôi tay, ước muốn tù đầy,
tóc rối bạc màu vết dấu tình sầu
Nhìn em, nhìn em giây phút, muốn nói yêu em
Xin cho tôi, tôi như cơn ngũ
Ru em, đưa em một lần
Ru em vào mộng, đưa em vào đời
Một thời yêu đương
Cho tôi xin em như gối mộng
Cho tôi ôm em vào lòng
Xin cho một lần, cho đêm mặn nồng
Yêu thương vợ chồng
Dù mai đây ai đưa em đi đến cuối cuộc đời
Dù cho em, em đang tâm xé, xé nát tim tôi
Dù có ước, có ước ngàn lời, có trách một đời
Cũng đã muộn lời
Tình ơi! dù sao đi nữa xin vẫn yêu em
- Sáng tác của Ngô Thụy Miên
Dù cho mây hay cho bảo tố có kéo qua đây
Dù có gió, có gió lạnh đầy, có tuyết bùn lầy
Có lá buồn gầy, dù sao, dù sao đi nữa tôi vẫn yêu em
Dựa vai nhau cho nhau yên vui ấm áp cuộc đời
Tìm môi nhau, cho nhau rã nát, rã nát tim đau
Vừa đôi tay, ước muốn tù đầy,
tóc rối bạc màu vết dấu tình sầu
Nhìn em, nhìn em giây phút, muốn nói yêu em
Xin cho tôi, tôi như cơn ngũ
Ru em, đưa em một lần
Ru em vào mộng, đưa em vào đời
Một thời yêu đương
Cho tôi xin em như gối mộng
Cho tôi ôm em vào lòng
Xin cho một lần, cho đêm mặn nồng
Yêu thương vợ chồng
Dù mai đây ai đưa em đi đến cuối cuộc đời
Dù cho em, em đang tâm xé, xé nát tim tôi
Dù có ước, có ước ngàn lời, có trách một đời
Cũng đã muộn lời
Tình ơi! dù sao đi nữa xin vẫn yêu em
- Sáng tác của Ngô Thụy Miên
April 11, 2009
Christ who suffers
As part of the Uganda mission trip, I'm reading the book Compassion by Henri Nouwen, Donald McNeill, and Douglas Morrison. We're supposed to be reflecting on the readings, asking ourselves questions that probe why we are committed to this mission work. So far, I've completed Chapter 1 (slow reader!) and have been trying to blog about this for some time, without any success.
Today's passage was about the mystery of God's compassion as embodied through Christ Jesus:
Now that we are in this seemingly silent space before Sunday morn, I can't help but think about what it means for us to dwell on a Christ who suffers for us and with us. Not one who is a knight in shining armor, charging down the streets on a white steed, ready to save us in a grand and triumphant way, but one who suffers with us. This is a Christ who hungers with the hungry children in Uganda, thirsts with the women and children who have to carry water for miles and miles, ails with the children sickened by malaria, dies with the children dying of HIV/AIDS.
Easter Sunday has not been a mystery for us for quite some time -- at least, not like the mystery fraught with uncertainty on that one morning thousands of years ago. We know the story. We can pretend to re-enact the fear, the uncertainty, the anxiety, etc., but we all believe and know what happened. (Come now, how many of us recall that story about the empty plastic Easter egg that symbolizes the empty tomb on Easter Sunday morning?)
But for some kids in Uganda, in Africa, in Vietnam, in China, in the U.S., each morning is an uncertainty -- do they die from cold, thirst, malnutrition, sickness? Do they live to see the sunrise? Will there be another morning of light and freedom from death?
My thoughts are convoluted tonight as I write, but I'm struck by the messages about compassion in this book... Compassionate being, compassionate living.... It's not that easy. As I read the section on "Toward New Life," I wondered how many people think that for the millions who are suffering, does that mean God is not compassionate? Or, what if some folks believed that there were not enough people praying for the sick, the elderly, the weak, the dying? What are we saying about God? What are we thinking about God? Are we defining God with our limited human understanding? How dangerous it would be if we started thinking that God's compassion Being is measured and defined by who is rescued and who is not!!
"The mystery of God's love is not that our pain is taken away, but that God first wants to share that pain with us" (14). Indeed. That makes sense to me. It's not that we are unloved if we are not "saved" or "cured" or "rescued". It's not that God is not compassionate to me, to them, to us. It is about how we as the Body of Christ choose to embody Christ in the best way we can -- to be instruments of Godly compassion and vehicles through which Christ's resurrection is seen, felt, experienced, and understood.
Today's passage was about the mystery of God's compassion as embodied through Christ Jesus:
In Jesus, all suffering was sensed with a perfect sensitivity. The great mystery revealed to us in this is that Jesus, who is the sinless son of God, chose in total freedom to suffer fully our pains and thus to let us discover the true nature of our own passions. In him, we see and experience the persons we truly are. Jesus who is divine lives our broken humanity not as a curse (Gn 3:14-19) but as a blessing. (15)
Now that we are in this seemingly silent space before Sunday morn, I can't help but think about what it means for us to dwell on a Christ who suffers for us and with us. Not one who is a knight in shining armor, charging down the streets on a white steed, ready to save us in a grand and triumphant way, but one who suffers with us. This is a Christ who hungers with the hungry children in Uganda, thirsts with the women and children who have to carry water for miles and miles, ails with the children sickened by malaria, dies with the children dying of HIV/AIDS.
Easter Sunday has not been a mystery for us for quite some time -- at least, not like the mystery fraught with uncertainty on that one morning thousands of years ago. We know the story. We can pretend to re-enact the fear, the uncertainty, the anxiety, etc., but we all believe and know what happened. (Come now, how many of us recall that story about the empty plastic Easter egg that symbolizes the empty tomb on Easter Sunday morning?)
But for some kids in Uganda, in Africa, in Vietnam, in China, in the U.S., each morning is an uncertainty -- do they die from cold, thirst, malnutrition, sickness? Do they live to see the sunrise? Will there be another morning of light and freedom from death?
My thoughts are convoluted tonight as I write, but I'm struck by the messages about compassion in this book... Compassionate being, compassionate living.... It's not that easy. As I read the section on "Toward New Life," I wondered how many people think that for the millions who are suffering, does that mean God is not compassionate? Or, what if some folks believed that there were not enough people praying for the sick, the elderly, the weak, the dying? What are we saying about God? What are we thinking about God? Are we defining God with our limited human understanding? How dangerous it would be if we started thinking that God's compassion Being is measured and defined by who is rescued and who is not!!
"The mystery of God's love is not that our pain is taken away, but that God first wants to share that pain with us" (14). Indeed. That makes sense to me. It's not that we are unloved if we are not "saved" or "cured" or "rescued". It's not that God is not compassionate to me, to them, to us. It is about how we as the Body of Christ choose to embody Christ in the best way we can -- to be instruments of Godly compassion and vehicles through which Christ's resurrection is seen, felt, experienced, and understood.
April 8, 2009
To the Gods, by W.S. Merwin
When did you stop
telling us what we could believe
when did you take that one step
only one
above
all that
as once you stepped
out of each of the stories
about you one after the other
and out of whatever
we imagined we knew
of you
who were the light
to begin with
and all of the darkness
at the same time
and the voice in them
calling crying
and the enormous answer
neither coming nor going
but too fast to hear
you let us believe
the names for you
whenever we heard them
you let us believe the stories
how death came to be
how the light happened
how the beginning began
you let us believe
all that
then you let us believe
that we had invented you
and that we no longer
believed in you
and that you were only stories
that we did not believe
you with no
moment for beginning
no place to end
one step above
all that
listen to us
wait
believe in us
- from Present Company, Copper Canyon Press
telling us what we could believe
when did you take that one step
only one
above
all that
as once you stepped
out of each of the stories
about you one after the other
and out of whatever
we imagined we knew
of you
who were the light
to begin with
and all of the darkness
at the same time
and the voice in them
calling crying
and the enormous answer
neither coming nor going
but too fast to hear
you let us believe
the names for you
whenever we heard them
you let us believe the stories
how death came to be
how the light happened
how the beginning began
you let us believe
all that
then you let us believe
that we had invented you
and that we no longer
believed in you
and that you were only stories
that we did not believe
you with no
moment for beginning
no place to end
one step above
all that
listen to us
wait
believe in us
- from Present Company, Copper Canyon Press
April 5, 2009
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