Top 10 Best Poems by Poet Lê Anh Xuân - Mytour.vn

Sending Love to the North

My homeland boasts small thatched-roof houses
Along the distant Red River, a far cry from the Mekong
Yet, my childhood memories are inked in the pages of history
Travelling with Quang Trung, I once reached Thang Long.
Recalling evenings gazing toward the North
Spotting distant white storks flying in
I mistook a bit of Northern melancholy in their wings
Though those storks never ventured beyond.
I grew up amidst foes dividing our land
Yet, neither guns nor swords could impede love
Could they impede the radiant red sun
As my heart transformed into a sunflower.
I listen to my heart beating hastily
'This is the Voice of Vietnam Broadcasting'
Hearing the northern winds blow in winter beyond
I wish to send my heart's warmth to the Hau Giang.
I rejoice at each red-tiled school roof
Every black coal seam, every golden rice ear.
I ache as America drops bombs, causing destruction
To all I cherish, all I hold dear
Though I've never crossed the Ngang Pass
I've memorized the verses of Lady Thanh Quan
Did fire touch the flowers, leaves, and trees?
Does that house under the mountain still remain?
Oh, the land with four thousand years of history
Has buried invaders from floods and raids.
Today, the enemy is defeated once again
And their reactionary bodies fall beside arrows of solidarity.
I remember each river, each mountain's name
The deeds of valor, the heroes' acclaim.
News of victory from my homeland echoes
Urging both North and South to move ahead.
Both regions under the same red star
Bathed in moonlight illuminating rifles.
The bomb crater here resembles the one there
Both regions share a common enemy.
Soil from the South is revealed in the North
Moving to mend the path and rebuild.
Cam Pha's coal ignites a fiery blaze
Flickering amidst the peaks of the Truong Son.
Oh, my beloved North, cherished in my heart
Where the ideology of Uncle Ho blooms
Where a magnificent paradise is emerging
Where remnants of ancient times still exist.
Where I've held affection since my youth
In my veins flows the blood of my forefathers
Like a Southern soursop on the river of the Red.
Sending love to the North, my entire heart
Days of anticipation, nights filled with longing
Sending love to the North, the loyalty of the South
Marching forward to confront the American front.

Longing for Homeland Rain

Oh, my homeland
Separated for so many years
Tonight, lying here, I listen to the falling rain
Hearing the distant thunder rumble...
Why does my heart feel such longing?

Oh, the rain of the homeland
Has lulled and sung to my soul since childhood,
Soaking my heart with love at its first bloom.
Hearing the rain on banana leaves, coconut fronds,
Seeing the sun rise after the rain has ceased.
I love it too much, like the first time I knew
I love the rain like something intimate
Like bamboo, coconut, like the village of my homeland.
Like those people - who knows how much they love.
Oh, childhood, where I bathed in the rain.
I splashed playfully on the water's surface of the river
I dove down, hearing the distant thunder
Hearing the rain, the warm sound within.

Oh, where are the games of youth?
The banana boats, coconut huts, the small thatched roofs
The tiny footprints of early days
The small bamboo rafts, like tiny boats
The rain carried them away.
The rain flows down to the homeland river
The waves of the homeland flow to the open sea,
Carrying old memories, sinking in the four directions.
And I grow, love expanding like the vast sea
The small rain of my homeland has lived
Now stirring my heart, resonating through a hundred rivers
Oh, the rain of the homeland.
Rain is the gentle melody of a cool song.
On nights I lie listening to the rain, oh rain
Hearing it tap on bamboo branches, hearing it fall on leaves,
Softly murmuring, echoing far away...

Sometimes suddenly, a fierce storm
Rain pouring like a hundred paths converging.
Old dreams with flashes, thunderous roars,
The small school's history suddenly becomes a storm.
Hearing like the sound of our forefathers building the nation,
Passing on to descendants to walk with heads held high
Hearing like the words of trees and grass in the rain.
Continuing the song of unyielding determination from ancient times...

The rain stops, like a light spring
Seeing fresh green on the sunlit branches
Oh, rain, rain, cleansing the young branches
Bringing sweet, fresh fruit in the spring.
Oh, so joyful, not a bird in sight
But the bamboo grove hears a melodious song.
Whose house is that, the mortar and pestle busy
Making raindrops dance on the leaves.

On the other side of the river, some girls wash clothes
Hands shaking water. Suddenly a light rain
Her arm, or the gentle breeze
Swinging the bamboo branches, a small rain falls...
Oh, how I love those coconut rows in front of the house
The brown roots, smooth as silk threads
The road is dry, the soil turns fresh and moist
Already in love, suddenly feeling even more in love...
Oh, homeland, separated for so many years
Tonight, lying here, I listen to the falling rain,
Hearing the distant thunder rumble...
Why does my heart ache again...
I want to return to the homeland
I want to go back to my childhood
I want to lie on the land of my ancestors
Hearing the rain tap on bamboo branches, hearing the rain fall on leaves...
Oh, the distant thunder, suddenly a loud roar...

Source: Truong Son - The road of aspirations, National Political Publishing House, 2009

Nguyen Van Troi

When I called Uncle Ho three times
My heart felt even closer to him
I haven't seen him with my own eyes
But the image of Uncle in my heart still shines
'I love you so much, Uncle!
During the resistance years since childhood
Meeting Uncle on Mid-Autumn Festival in dreams
With love, I sing: 'Uncle Ho Chi Minh'...
Now, facing the moment of execution
I feel like Uncle is looking at me
Uncle kisses me, Uncle holds my hand
I kiss Uncle back three times this morning'
For eternity! For eternity! For eternity!
Millions respond thunderously from all directions
Cries echo to the mountains, the mountains resonate
Meeting the river, the river sings, meeting the forest, the forest chants
When Uncle Ho appears to us
Like a waterfall clearing obstacles
Oh, the three words Ho Chi Minh!
Have become weapons, have become beliefs
Have become sacred promises
The fire doesn't burn, the stone doesn't shatter
Necks in shackles still shout
Hands in handcuffs wave a thousand arms
Uncle is the land, the sky and clouds
Vietnam has Uncle, each day more beautiful
Higher than the Thai Son peak
A thousand years of forging the soul of our ancestors
Hexachord melodies, folk songs
Vietnam is Uncle, Uncle is Vietnam
'Vietnam for eternity!'
Vietnam, Homeland for eternity
The place we love endlessly
Even though this is the Chí Hòa shooting range
The land beneath my feet is still ours
Behind me is the hometown
The place I lean on is the Truong Son
It's the rice field, the worn-out path
The red of ripening rice flowers, the blue of a thousand strawberries
The Thu Bon River murmuring its young age
The red chili blossoms, the eggplant flowers
The land is fresh and fertile, the soil turning moist
So in love, suddenly feeling even more in love...
Oh, homeland, separated for so many years
Tonight, lying here, I listen to the falling rain
Hearing the distant thunder rumble...
Why does my heart ache again...
I want to return to the homeland
I want to go back to my childhood
I want to lie on the land of my ancestors
Hearing the rain tap on bamboo branches, hearing the rain fall on leaves...
Oh, the distant thunder, suddenly a loud roar...

Source: Truong Son - The road of aspirations, National Political Publishing House, 2009

Marching in the Spring Forest

The distant forest echoes the cuckoo's song
Resonating with the babbling brook and the wind's melody
Spring is disguised in dense foliage
The path to the frontline adorned with golden apricot blossoms
A heavy backpack, a gun held tight
The road seems endless, filled with memories
At this hour, mothers in the homeland
Must be watching the path we tread
Night rain, day sun, what does it matter
The enemy still lurks, our journey not yet complete
Forest birds sing melodiously by the stream
Looking up at the azure expanse, the spring forest on all sides.

Returning to the Homeland

Oh homeland, green with coconut shadows
Little did I expect that today I return
Our homeland, everything still remains
Though loved ones have fallen on this soil
I meet again the faces I dearly love
I gaze upon myself, enchanted, intoxicated
I tremble holding those beloved hands
Affection overflowing within my fervent grasp.

Here is the old familiar path
The one we often dream about
Someone's house, the sound of a midday hammock
How nostalgic... filled with longing
Oh, white jasmine flowers, pink lotus blossoms.
Like your pure loyal heart
Like your beautiful, deep red heart
The small river of our childhood baths
Still flows here, its course unchanged
Purple water lilies grace the riverbank.

Mother, back bent, silver hair
Telling stories with a sigh that I hear
Eight babies died from the concentrated bomb
On the way home from school.
Enemy killed ten people in one hamlet
Villagers carried the corpses in a crowded boat

Transported to Ben Tre, fighting against the enemy
Our village bombarded multiple times
Coconut trees fallen, bamboo groves destroyed
Mom improvised a temporary thatched shelter from rain and wind.
Little did I expect, Mom's thatched shelter
Beneath that layer of earth, the flames still burned
My mom diligently, every morning
Raised my siblings in the secret underground
All her life, Mom sacrificed with determination
Twenty years defending the land, defending the village
Oh, Mom, the mother of the South.
Little did I expect, my little sister there
Under that tent, she grew up
She is so beautiful, like the spring awakening
Carrying a gun on her shoulder, she looks like an angel
Oh sister! Why does your hair smell so sweet
Or did you just pass through the durian orchard
I love the sound of your laughter, pure
Sweet like the water of young coconuts.

I love the sight of you crossing the bamboo bridge so delicate
Gentle like those fairies
You are a partisan, you are a liaison
You are our homeland itself
Eleven years now, I remember, I love.

The first night I slept in the homeland
Feeling warmth in my unfamiliar heart
Though outside, the pouring rain
The roar of artillery echoed through the leaves
Oh, our homeland is so beautiful!
Though on the road, there are still bomb craters
Though your dress still has patches
Only the loyal, steadfast heart remains
And the rifle in hand, burning with righteous anger.


9-1965
This poem is used as additional reading in the 12th-grade literature textbook from 1990-2006.
Source: Coconut Flowers, People's Liberation Publishers, 1969

Go, My Love

Dedicated to the Southern youth gathering in the North on Front Day, urging readiness to return to the South for combat.

Go, my love! Oh, my dear
Return to the homeland, shaded with green coconut
Surely, you must be ready by now
Waiting to depart, just like when standing waiting for me
Perhaps you wish to turn into a green bird
Flying over Truong Son, soaring back to our motherland
I imagined seeing you cry like a child
When placing your feet on the homeland soil.

I remember you – the beloved North
I recall your figure by the willow-lined road
By West Lake in the gentle evening
I remember your eyes, pure and gentle
Like the northern sky in a autumn evening
I carried you through the long, winding road
Like holding the North Star in my heart
Carrying the belief in the day of reunification
Even as bombs fell upon us.

Tell me about those lively days
Millions of youth answering the Party's call
Ready to go anywhere
Where difficulty, the youth leads.

I feel as if I see your silhouette heading there
You are far, yet so close, who knows
Like the heart within my chest
Like the South within the Northern night.

I revisited the old school you attended
Still surrounded by vibrant green tea plants
Still the red river stretches to the horizon
Still the river rushes to the open sea.

But do you know the stories of joy and sorrow?
The red river, the blood of our people spilled
Green tea leaves have fallen many times
And the school is now battered and worn.
But they couldn't kill
The indomitable spirit of the whole South
U Minh Forest remains green with mangrove shadows
Bombs are over, children's laughter resounds again.

Look at the sister sitting in the classroom
Your old seat used to get wet in the rain
I miss you, oh how much!
Your seat here, where are you now?
If only you could return to the old school
Become a teacher amidst a flock of little birds
Surely, you would be happy, cherished, loved
For the children stealing into school bags
As courageous as my parents, so brave
Learning each letter amidst the sounds of bombs and gunfire
Returning home with mother in the evening, wielding a hoe
The kids as joyful as birds in a cage.

I've met those girls
Just like you, gentle and sweet
Also like you, twenty years old and pure
Do you know, they are heroines
Many times empty-handed they snatched back
Hundreds of times participating in anti-enemy protests
I want you to be like that. Oh, my dear
Return here to relive those nights
Red revolutionary flames in resistance villages
Back to the salty oars, the sea breeze
Back to wielding a hoe, holding a gun, a knife
Many hardships but happiness squeezes through.

How beautiful you were in Hanoi's ao dai
Walking through the streets fragrant with milk flower every spring
You are even more beautiful in the traditional dress
Dyed the color of black, the color of our homeland's soil
So beautiful when you walk under the defensive trench
Erasing the pain of youth.

Are you still awake or have you slept?
Oh, Hanoi, the streets are fragrant with milk flowers
Do you hear outside the door, the green trees
Resonating with my footsteps
Surely, you must be ready by now
A backpack, a soldier's soul
Is it that you sleepless nights
The military march urging within your heart.

5-1965

Source: Poems by Le Anh Xuan, Modern Vietnamese Literature, Literature Publishing House, Hanoi, 1981

Across Ap Bac

I walk on the fields of Ap Bac
The land beneath my feet is fragrant, fertile
The Ap Bac afternoon is clear
The Ap Bac fields are intensely green

Oh Ap Bac, the undefeated field
Feats have echoed around the globe
Yet, this simple land
The gun cotton beneath the pond blooms like a fan
The clusters of water mimosa, the rows of coconut palms
The green fields of rice, the yellow lines of sugarcane
And here, the scent of Vietnamese soil
All have become immortal
Each breeze has blown into history
I thought devastation remained here
Strangely, rice still gleams with freshness
Rice surrounds the enemy's post
Rice undefeated like the indomitable people
Mud has filled the bomb craters
And the wounds of the soul
The enemy still drops bombs and rains bullets day and night
Why is this land still vibrant with life?

I walk on, my heart filled with melancholy
Where do you rest, my friend? Oh, please
Where you lie, simple plot of land
Surrounded by rice singing in harmony
The shadow of bamboo fences provides shade over the graveyard
In the evening, offerings of fresh flowers are given

Enough, I must go! The evening is falling
The road is long, we will meet again
I turn to look across the vast rice field
The graves of my comrades suddenly seem strange
New accomplishments along the road
The evening star burning brightly over Ap Bac.

10-1966
Source: Coconut Flower, Liberation Publishing House, 1969.

You are the River Flowing in Front of My House

You are the river flowing in front of my house
Do you hear the waves splashing day and night?

In the morning, water rises, the river flows gently
Do you see many water lilies with purple flowers?

In the afternoon, when the golden sun gently shines
Do you feel the water calmly rolling along?
You are heading to the vast sea

Where are you going, rowing against the current?
The sky is raining, your clothes are wet
Why not wait for the rising tide, my dear?
Go now, before the dawn breaks
For in my heart, you, the river, flow downstream

I stay awake following your oar strokes
I am with you, even in the stormy night
Even when the enemy fires bullets along the riverbank
I am still by your side. Can't you hear?
The sound of waves - the sound of my deep heart

Do you know how much I love you?
As deep and unpredictable as the river
Amidst the rain of bombs, I dare not look in the mirror
You remain beautiful reflecting the flowing water
You are still beautiful as you mirror my heart

You are the river flowing in front of my house
Do you hear the waves splashing day and night?