Hồ Xuân Hương, often hailed as the queen of Nôm poetry, primarily explores themes centered around women. Born into an aristocratic family in the 18th or 19th century during the societal decline, she was a remarkably talented and astute individual. Despite her intelligence and wit, her romantic fate was marked by misfortune—two marriages, both ending abruptly, denying her the happiness she sought. Hồ Xuân Hương's works feature uniquely original content, imbued with artistic flair and profound value. Her compositions predominantly shed light on the plight of underprivileged women in contemporary society, capturing the essence of their unfortunate and bitter life journeys. Today, I share with you, dear readers and admirers of Hồ Xuân Hương's poetry, the best 20 poems by Hồ Xuân Hương for your contemplation.

1. Autumn Scene
Vividly, the boat races against the rhythm of raindrops,
Ink of the divine brush sketches a humble scene,
Verdant, embracing the ancient tree's sprawling branches,
A white canvas stretches across the tranquil river's expanse.
Rolling hills, intoxicated by the beauty of the landscape,
Moonlit pouch burdened by the weight of verse,
Revealing that even landscapes have a penchant for people,
Witnessing scenery, a captivating experience for anyone.
2. Floating Rice Dumplings
Her body, both fair and gracefully round,
Seven float, three sink in the youthful water.
Despite the scars, crafted by skilled hands,
Yet she holds onto a heart adorned in crimson.
3. Midnight Melody
Echoes of drums resonate in the late night
Beyond the rosy countenance of diverse lands
A cup of wine, its fragrance drifting between intoxication and sobriety
The moon's shadowy disc, not yet a perfect circle
Sloping across the earth's surface, mossy patches abound
Piercing through layers of clouds, rocks form clusters
Weary of the cyclic nature of springs, coming and going
A piece of youthful love, tender and naive

4. Playing in the Stands
Gently, spring afternoon arrives at the Stands
Serenely, untouched by worldly concerns
Four seasons conscripted, bells roaring like waves
A pool of sorrow, waters upheaved to the sky
Ocean of love, countless layers deep and wise
Source of kindness, a hundred measures easily replenished
Where is the extreme bliss, you ask?
Extreme bliss is here, crystal clear and distinct
5. Perfume Pagoda
A crack reveals a mysterious opening
The familiar ones crowd around the Buddha's door
Strangers, weary, gaze at the Fairy's bosom
Drops of affectionate water fall with sacred resonance
The boat, humble and unadorned, bows low
The pine boat embraces all the splendor once more
Clearly, skillfully navigating the aging heavens
6. Sai Son Pagoda
Commendable for cleverly crafting beyond mortal realms
One puzzle unfolds into countless mysteries
Stone ridges and grasses intertwine in lush ruggedness
A stream trickles, whispering secrets in muddy cadence
A bald-headed monk sits, scraping away with a wooden pestle
Two small, round backs stand guard at the shrine
Only upon arrival do you realize the sanctity here
Weary legs and tired knees, yet the desire lingers
7. In defiance of wine restrictions, a poetic proclamation - Part 2
Behold, who is awake, who is in a trance
Witness, who teases the moon in broad daylight
Hold on, please cease and desist
Avoid delving into the hornet's nest again, lest you lose a hand
8. The In-Laws' Stone
Skillfully playing the game of cosmic creation,
Mr. Husband is just that, and Mrs. Wife is no different.
On the upper floor, a snowy pinnacle crowns silvered heads,
The cutting board beneath dew, infused with a rosy hue.
Benevolent courage extends alongside Sister Moon,
A block of affection rubbing against mountains and rivers.
Even the stone knows the aging touch of spring,
No wonder they appear so youthful in their prime.

9. Playing on the Swing
Four pillars commend those skilled at planting,(1)
Some climb to swing, others sit and watch,
Boys on the swing, knees bent, laughter cascading
Girls arching their backs, hearts fluttering like bees.
Four pieces of pink fabric flutter in the breeze,
Two rows of legs, like polished pearls, stretch side by side.
Playing in spring, do you truly grasp its essence?(2)
Pull out the stakes, leave no trace behind!(3)
10. Second-Grade Beauty Contest
Oh, how many years, my dear aunt?
Both sister and younger sister possess beauty
A hundred charms, like impressions on blank paper
A thousand years, the evergreen essence of spring
The future's voucher dares not take that path
Willow trees resign to their fragile fate
One hobby, why not indulge in drawing
Blame not the craftsman for his unintentional grace
11. Married Life Together
Some make warm cotton blankets, others remain cold-hearted
Cutting ties with the past, embracing married life together
Five or ten years, is it a blessing or a curse?
Once or twice a month, perhaps not at all
Persistently punching, but spoiling the rice porridge
Holding a diploma, but laboring in vain
This predicament seems quite metaphorical, doesn't it?
In bygone days, resigned to endure such a fate

12. Inviting to Chew Betel Nut
The betel fruit, petite and fragrant betel leaves
Ah, Hồ Xuân Hương's possession just got polished
Is it fate that makes our connection so vibrant again?
Don't stay green like leaves, or silver like lime
13. Self-Reflection
Solitude 1
The rooster's crow echoes on the bomb,
Resentment gazes across every corner.
A lonely scarecrow stands silent and sturdy,
The bell of sorrow remains eerily quiet.
Previously, those sounds hinted at added sorrow,
After anger, fate remains tight-lipped.
Who is the virtuoso of literary talent?
This body has not yet submitted to aging!
Solitude 2
In the late night, the drumbeat echoes relentlessly,
Bare is the fair face against the waterside landscape.
The wine cup wafts its fragrance, alternating between intoxication and sobriety,
The moon's shadow lingers, not yet fully round,
Diagonal across the earth, moss in clusters.
Piercing through the clouds, rocks scatter in a few spots.
Weary of the cycle of springs coming and going,
A fragment of love shared, like a tiny creature!
Personal sentiment 3
The sad cake due to its humble fate,
Amidst the swirling current, a floating sorrow.
The back pocket of emotions, seemingly intricate and delicate,
Half-hearted amidst the vast scenery, rickety and unsteady.
Holding the helm, regardless of who anchors the shore,
The oars creak, encountering the rugged cliffs downward.
Whoever probes the orange plank feels that way inside,
Tired of embracing the zither with its delicate tunes.

14. The Master of Craftsmanship
Not Ngô, not me, it's plain to see
A bald head, a robe without hem you'll agree.
Presenting offerings with a few items up front
Veiling behind, six or seven women stand
In various poses, they jest and they play
With laughter and joy, their voices at bay
Having spent time, perhaps become a master
Dizzy, a pagoda adorned with a lotus
Số 15. Stuffed Snail
Born into the fate of a stuffed snail
Night and day, rolling in the sweaty grass,
A gentleman with compassion lends a hand.
Please don't peep into my round hole.
Number 16. Ode to the Hand Fan
One hole stringing through, fitting just right,
Fate, sticking to me, since when, out of sight.
Stretching three corners of leather, still short,
Closing the sides, excess flesh, no retort.
Cool-faced hero when the wind subsides,
Shielding the noble head in a downpour ride.
Gently inquire, to those in the courtyard,
Elated within, have you felt reward?
17. Hương Tích Cave
Craftily presented, who is the sly one?
A hole cracks open, mysterious and fun.
Familiar faces flock to Buddha's realm,
The stranger poses, eying the celestial scene.
A drop of affection falls, profoundly serene.
The boat, unsculpted, bows in a humble lean.
Quaint charms embrace the luxuriant lake's sheen,
Wisely the aged sky tilts towards its dusk.

The cave dangles its mysteries, a tale of trust.
Born of rock, a clustered cosmic thrust.
A rift forms, a duo of flaws, robust and robust.
A mossy crevice, toes peeking in repose.
The wind whispers, waves in a rhythmic prose.
A drop of water, affection it bestows.
The path endless, in shadows it slows.
Praise the one skilled in carving stones with art.
Cleverly flaunting, many eyes take part.
A self-guided tour, exploring the temple's heart.
Master and disciple, strolling, a scene of fine art.
Holding a letter, back pocket, wine by the lake
The catfish lingers, indifferent and headless
Mountain birds nod to the ancient hymn
Kindness whispers at the door, wings squeezed
Incense fills the altar to the brim
Monks inquire, monkishly inquiring
How many disciples in your blessed home?
20. Mischievous Pupil
Cleverly, cleverly, where are these clueless ones wandering?
Come here, let me teach you the art of poetry
Young bees itch, stinging flowers during their cleanse
The grassy goat, its horns sad, nods and says goodbye

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