Top 12 Finest Love Poems of All Time

You said: 'Go away'
Why don't you stop?
You said: 'Don't wait'
Why hurry back?

Words fleeting like the wind
Eyes enchanted with tears
But why are you so foolish
Not to look into my eyes.

But why are you so foolish
Not to look into my eyes
Not to look into the eyes of sorrow
Not to look into the eyes of depth?

Sad things have passed
Please don't mention again
I, naive and clumsy
You, dreamy and distant.

Life is harsh for us
Wishing for a warm dream
Then, let's send the waves
Take love to the end of the river.

Then, let's send the waves
Take love to the end of the river
Take love to the dream
Take love into the void.

This poem is present in all notebooks of many generations of poetry lovers in Vietnam. However, not many people correctly attribute the real author of the poem but often mistakenly credit it to other poets such as Olga Bergols or even... Evgueni Evtushenko! Nevertheless, Kaputikian managed to keep her poetry melodious, albeit bitter, yet not desperate. With this attitude, when writing socially engaged works, Kaputikian was even more successful and highly respected by both the former Soviet Union and present-day Armenia.

Unexpectedly, I met you
Then, unexpectedly, I fell in love
Life is cruel by chance
So we love each other.

By chance, I spoke a word
And you got upset by chance
By chance, I remained silent
So we drifted apart.

No one understands why
Life's path divides into two
No one is to blame
It's just by chance.

By chance throughout life
I'm sadly immersed
By chance, you don't know
Or perhaps, you've just forgotten.

A glimpse of my name for her
Will sink like the melancholic waves
Quietly corroding on the deserted shore,
Like the night's sound lost amidst thousands.

Someday on the surface of the memory page
It will only be a soulless trace
Resembling a sketch on a tombstone
A faint mark of a distant language.

The old name has long been forgotten
No longer evokes anything for her
The old love, gentle and pure
Fades before someone else's affection.

But if, on a sad and painful day,
She silently whispers my name
And believes: here lies a memory
She still lives within a heart.

Life, I entrust to you
All the joys and sorrows, every pain
I may deceive you, my love
But my poetry can never lie.

Like on the window
Tilting down into my life
Who knows between us two
Who will depart first, you or I?

Just one dream
Repeated every day
Even after my death
My love will endure forever.

1946...

Jealousy by Nguyễn Bính is a poignant creation drawn from his collection Nguyễn Bính – poetry and life. It's a beautiful poem that has been adapted into a song of the same name by the composer Trọng Khương. With Nguyễn Bính, we can find all the emotions of love—dreaming, confessing, heartbreak, pain, longing, jealousy... And the poem Jealousy encapsulates these common feelings in love.

My petite lover!
I want your lips to only curl in a smile
When I'm around and your eyes only...
Look at me when I'm far away.

I want you not to think of anyone,
Don't kiss, even if you see fresh flowers,
Don't embrace the pillow, sleep tonight...
Don't shower this evening, the beach is crowded.

I want the scent of your perfume,
That you often dab, not to drift away,
Not to intoxicate passersby,
Even just crossing the street, visitors go by.

I want the freezing cold nights of winter
Not to hide secretly beside you,
Otherwise, I want you not to meet
Any young man in your dreams.

I want the fragrance of your breath, gentle.
Don't dampen the clothes of unfamiliar guests.
Your footprints on the dusty road

It means I'm jealous, that's all,
It means I love too much, it's gone,
And it means you're everything.
You're all mine.

Love is dying within a bit
For seldom does love secure being loved
Given so much, yet receiving so little
People betray, or remain indifferent, who knows.

Moments of intimacy, like hours of parting
Thinking the moon fades, flowers decay, with a lost soul.

For seldom does love secure being loved
Love is dying within a bit

They wander amidst melancholy
Those who blindly follow the traces of love
And life's scenery is an endless desert
And love is a winding, tightening thread
Love is dying within a bit.

From the collection of poems 'Poetry' (1938), listed in the catalog 'Poetry of Xuân Diệu' in 'Representative Works of Poetry'

The first poem I wrote for you
Is a poem about a pair of shoes
When the longing in my heart is profound
Even ordinary things turn into poetry.

Those two shoes met, I don't know when
In love they never leave each other
Together, bearing the ups and downs of the journey
On velvet, down to the dusty sand, side by side.

Walking together, wearing out together, no one tall or short
Sharing the burden of the world's footsteps
Though honor and disgrace don't go with others
The fate of one depends on the other.

If one day a shoe goes missing
All replacements become awkward
Similar but the walker will know
These two are not a pair.

Just like us when we are apart
A misstep tilts towards one side
Even though there's someone else beside
In the heart, the longing still sways.

A pair of indifferent shoes accompanies each other
No vows without any pretense
No promises without betrayal
Every path, both of them are present.

Cannot be without each other on the journey of life
Though each shoe is on a different side
But I love you in the opposite things
Bonded for a common path.

Two silent lives walk parallelly
Will stop when there's only one shoe left
Only one is nothing at all
If the second one cannot be found.

The poem you just read is “Pair of Shoes” by Nguyễn Trung Kiên. From the collection of poems 'Nostalgic Poetry' in 'Representative and Famous Poetry Works'

Em knows it's an old story
Love, how important is it:
The bond between two strangers
Sharing joys and sorrows together.

Em dares not think it's forever
Today in love, tomorrow may be far
The pain seems endless
Suddenly replaced by a new joy.

What we say today, tomorrow
Others will speak of love from the past
Life is not extremely important, em knows
And verses don't last forever.

Nothing is very important
Like the air, like the green of grass
Too much to the point of seeming none
Before the vast, vast life.

But right now you're with em
The joy in us is real
Like a shirt on the wall, like a book
Like a bunch of flowers opening in front of the door.

Em understands that every time you go away
Your love for em is a land
It's shade on the sunlit road
Fragrant fruits on dry land.

This love em wants to tell you
The origin of a thousand desires
A good heart to sustain life
For humans truly better than just.

The poem you've just read is 'Speak with Me' by Nguyễn Thị Xuân Quỳnh. From the collection Self-Singing (1984), category Xuân Quỳnh's Poetry in the Selected and Famous Poetry Works.

9. Distance Apart - Xuân Diệu

One day em sat far from anh,
Anh said, 'Come closer, my dear.'
Em moved a bit closer, anh frowned,
Em obediently moved even closer.

Anh is about to get angry, em smiles hurriedly,
Gets close to anh and whispers, 'I'm here!'
Anh is happy again, but suddenly sad,
Because anh thinks: still so far.

The eyes of a lover, oh, the deep abyss!
The distant sky, the lover's forehead!
What can we see beyond the color of charm?
While we're caught in the hands of disappointment.

Even with shared trust for a lifetime, a dream,
Em is em, anh remains anh.
Can we ever cross the Great Wall of China
Of two universes full of secrets?

Memories of the old drift away with time,
Anh's past, he doesn't mention to em.
Our souls still hide deeper than the night,
Yet to understand, who will understand completely?

Searching endlessly, suspicious or jealous wind,
Anh wants to explore your dreams,
But anh hides from em unexpected dreams,
Just as em hides things too real...

Let's put our heads together, let's press our chests!
Let's intertwine our short and long hair!
Those arms! Let's wrap tightly around our shoulders!
Let's offer all our love to our eyes!

Let's make our lips close and snug
So anh can hear the pair of precious teeth;
In the midst of enchantment, anh will tell em:
'Closer, still so far away.'

10. Her Hands - Xuân Quỳnh

Her only fortune is in her hands

Given to me since those days

Years together, anh only sees

Her long past, her hair was black.

Joy, sorrow in her speech, her smile

Through her face, anh understands worries

Through her eyes, anh understands hopes

Anh wonders, what does he think seeing her hands?

Her hands, fingers not long and slender

Old scars, green veins, the hardships

She skillfully paddled a boat when small

Picking water spinach, cooking soup.

Seamstress, hairdresser all by herself

Resting her face on her hands, crying for her mother

Winding paths, space like an endless sea

Anh waits for her, for her to hold his hand

In anh's hand, her hand is here

Knowing silently to nurture and care

Cold rainy days, her hands close the door

She dries blankets, mends clothes for anh

Hands arranging flowers, hands hanging pictures

Lighting the lamp anh reads by at night

Years pass, her head suffers so much

Her hands stop on a worried forehead

Gently soothing an ache

And gathering joy from every fall

When anh's away, her hands remember

Using time to weave a hopeful coat

Using time to write lines of poetry

To see that we're inseparable.

Her hands, a tiny treasure

She gives to anh along with her life.

11. Love Poetry at the End of Autumn - Xuân Quỳnh

At the edge, white clouds drift,
Leaves, sparse and thin, so swift.
Is it that leaves return to woods,
Fall goes hand in hand with leaves?

Autumn heads to the open sea,
Along currents wild and free.
Autumn and daisies pure and bright,
Only you and I in sight.

Only you and I
Belong to autumns gone by.

Suddenly a gust, whimsical breeze,
Stirs the path, once known with ease.
The grass, turning, follows the cloud's cue,
And night descends, dew damp and cool.

Night falls, mist on cheeks unfold,
A chill in the touch, tales of old.
Our love, like a line of trees,
Through seasons and storms with ease.

Our love, like a river's flow,
Now calm after torrents go.

Time, like the wind, a gentle blow,
Seasons pass, together we grow.
Ages follow months and years,
Only you and I still persevere.

Only you and I
With love that will not die.
Behold new loves arrive,
Pass through with the whimsical drive.

A breeze light, tinged with gray,
Caresses, whispers, has its say.
Our love, like trees in the field,
Weathered many a storm and yield.

Time, like the wind, a gentle flow,
Seasons wander, then they go.
Our love stands the test of fate,
Only you and I celebrate...

Look, new lovers may stride,
Yet, only you and I abide.

12. The Neighbor - Nguyễn Bính

Next door, she lives by my side,

A pumpkin vine, between us, wide.

Two souls in shared solitude,

Her sorrow seems a mirrored mood.

If only pumpkin vines were thin,

I'd visit her, come close within.

I dream gently, oh so light...

A white butterfly crosses to my side.

Butterfly, oh, flutter here!

Let me ask a question, do lend an ear...

Never have I seen her smile,

Her wet thread hangs across the aisle.

Her eyes, immersed in a gaze,

The white butterfly goes away...

Suddenly, I feel restless, unsure,

Am I in love with her, demure?

No, the missed tenderness

Leaves my love in cold loneliness.

Her thread never enters the spindle,

The white butterfly rarely comes to kindle.

For days, I've missed her,

Wishing I had golden threads to confer.

What is this yearning for?

Longing for her? No! Certainly, no more!

Yes, missed tenderness,

In my heart, I recall threads of yellow.

Heaven weeps, raining showers,

Four days and nights, passing hours!

Loneliness deepens its sorrow...

After rain, does the butterfly still borrow?

The rain has ceased today,

No more threads, the butterfly, in dismay.

The veranda remains empty,

I slump, tears on the table aplenty.

Remembering the odd white butterfly,

Remembering the thread of yellow, oh my!

Oh dear! White butterfly and golden thread!

Quickly, mourn and take her, I said!

Last night, she passed away,

Tears choked, I love her, I say.

Does her soul linger in the mortal plane?

Enter the white butterfly, never to wane.