Top 10 Essays on Bang Lang Flowers

As the Spring-Summer transition unfolds, the Bang Lang flowers begin to bud, their lush green branches swaying in the sun, showcasing tiny, delicate pink buds... I stand silently admiring the graceful Bang Lang branches cascading down beside the white car, which has been parked there since when? It's early, yet it provides a backdrop for the Bang Lang blooms to flaunt their beauty.

The Bang Lang blooms grow larger with each passing day, seemingly waiting for the blazing summer sun to burst forth, revealing their gentle purple hue. Bang Lang seems to fulfill its mission, soothing the blazing heat of summer with its gentle, enticing purple color, its thin, delicate petals blending harmoniously in the summer sun. Nestled under the Bang Lang trees, I gaze into the distance, Bang Lang adorning the streets like purple chiffon veils, enhancing the beauty and grace of Hanoi's summer.

I am nostalgic in the summer sun, amidst the purple Bang Lang hue, the purple of longing, of nostalgia, memories of old rushing back. I remember a friend from afar... he came to visit me on a very cold winter day, on this very familiar street! The same roadside café, the warm coffee soothing our cold, I suddenly called him, showing him images of Bang Lang in the sun.

I also told him about the strange weather, months have passed yet mornings and evenings are still as cold as autumn, perhaps that's why Bang Lang blooms less than usual, not as splendid as in previous years, yet so charming, captivating the hearts of all!

For two Bang Lang seasons, humans and flowers have been separated by the Covid pandemic, the flowers continue to bloom, but the streets are deserted, filled with the struggles of survival amidst the invisible pandemic, the numerous dangers of the looming invisible storm. People no longer have the mood to admire the beauty of Bang Lang. That's why everyone rejoices as life returns to normal, under the shade of the Bang Lang trees, seeing the children with their red scarves skipping to school again, encountering the graceful ao dai of Hanoi's young women beside the Bang Lang clusters... capturing beautiful moments with the romantic purple hue in the summer sun.

I stroll along the peaceful Bang Lang street, the sun, the gentle breeze enough for the Bang Lang to shimmer gracefully, nestling myself in the Bang Lang branches, looking up at the blue sky, the purple Bang Lang branches against the backdrop of a tall white building, the white of the building serving as a canvas for the Bang Lang branches to showcase their beauty, the gentle breeze... gently swaying the Bang Lang branches in the sun. A young person holding a camera, capturing beautiful moments of Bang Lang, the young person smiles and asks me to stop and says, 'What pose do you want, miss?' I smile brightly, expressing my emotions fully.

With the unusual weather, summer enjoying the coolness of autumn, the sprinkling raindrops like spring rain and the gentle cool breeze. Sharing the same emotions as the love of life, life returning to normal after enduring the invisible Covid attack on humanity for the past few years... countless difficulties, countless sorrows inflicted on humanity on this earth! The Bang Lang flower season this year, in the year two thousand two hundred and twenty-two, has brought peace. I look at the blue sky through the Bang Lang canopy, praying for peace for humanity on this earth, in my peaceful, tiny, friendly country.

The streets are bustling with people and vehicles passing by, groups of people walking across the Bang Lang street, everyone's faces radiant with happiness, they must also feel the same emotions as me, merging with nature in peaceful life. Making one want to spread their arms amidst the land and sky, amidst the gentle purple Bang Lang shimmering in the air, exclaiming Oh! Beloved life.

Do Thu Yen

They say Nature always balances itself. What it lacks in one aspect, it compensates in another. The rows of bang lang flowers along the road have proven that. And it's not because of the scent that bang lang fails to make my soul tremble. These days, I wish I had a real pro camera to capture all the charm of bang lang. With a week full of exams, only Sunday offers respite. So, early in the morning, I rush under the romantic bang lang trees. And I miss you!

In the fading sunsets, the small street awaits us with rows of bang lang. The nostalgic stories and hurried hand-holding. It's all like this, but every bang lang season twists my heart with longing. You're gone. Gone so far away. The path you took has no purple bang lang blossoms. Instead, it's lined with water lilies. You've gone where there's no pain from illness, only joy and happiness. I wonder if you still remember me, remember the old purple bang lang road.

Time keeps passing. I'm slowly getting used to your absence. But every bang lang season, I remember you painfully. Whenever I have free time, I return under the purple shade to let my longing gnaw at my heart. I silently send words of love and remembrance with each petal. I know for sure you're still with me, still listening to me, still picking up stray flowers lost on my shoulders...

I remember at first I didn't like bang lang flowers. But then, since I met you. You always took me under blooming bang lang trees. I don't know when, but I fell in love with bang lang flowers. Simple, humble, quietly beautiful flowers. You said you loved bang lang for that reason.

Then one early summer day, as the first purple bang lang blossoms unfolded in the sun and wind, it was also the day you quietly left me. I only managed to pick a bloom and put it in your hand before painfully watching you leave. Cancer took you when you were just twenty-five. The age of overflowing joy and aspirations. You lay there peacefully. I wrapped a wreath of vivid purple flowers for you. The flowers follow you to a distant place, and my soul also died then. My heart is wounded.

Today, retracing the old path with the lingering wound in my heart, but my heart has been reborn. I haven't forgotten you, nor has the love in me dried up. A friend once told me: if you want someone to depart peacefully, you must live happily, live better. You'll always be the memory of my youth.

The bang lang flowers still bloom vividly along the old path. Today, an old acquaintance returns, walking and silently saying something. Smiling with eyes moistened with sparkling tears. On the bang lang branch just bloomed, the wind still sings the eternal words of love.

Thanh Nguyen

The golden sunlight of May sparkles, weaving through the lush green canopy. In the gentle warmth, trees happily burst into bloom, adorning themselves with flowers. From a familiar corner, I tuck myself in a quiet café, gazing at the bustling streets adorned with vibrant flags, reminiscing about the youthful days filled with memories both joyful and sorrowful. Those years were as radiant as flowers blooming amidst the fiery summer.

Standing amidst the bustling street, I admire the majestic yellow hue of marigolds, sparkling with brilliance. Clusters of flowers cascade down, gleaming regally against the backdrop of lush green leaves, resembling lanterns swaying in the wind.

One day, as I wandered the streets, the purple bang lang flowers bloomed exuberantly, filling the sky with their affection. A strong gust of wind blew, causing delicate petals to flutter and scatter, painting the deserted streets in a purple hue, as if walking amidst a floral carpet eased my heart, floating in a sea of flowers. The pale purple petals, a reminder of longing, eventually transitioned to a faint pink, enough to reignite the nostalgia of seasons past. In that street corner, I lost my innocent first love.

As the months passed, phoenix flowers bloomed, their green buds stretching in the intense sunlight. After days of quiet nurturing, they blossomed, igniting the fiery red flames in the schoolyard. Clusters of bright red flowers symbolize the hope and dreams of the students. Beneath the ancient phoenix tree, white ao dai dresses sway beneath the blazing flowers, stirring the hearts of young students as they flutter amidst the falling petals. I wonder if someday, when we depart from school to explore new horizons, we'll reminisce about the vibrant summers we once shared. Perhaps we'll look back, nostalgically recalling those carefree days. A serene morning in class, gazing out the window, yearning for distant dreams, only to startle back, embarrassed, meeting the eyes of a loved one, beneath the desk, a love letter accompanied by a red phoenix flower, pressed with innocent but hesitant feelings, lying quietly in the drawer of memories.

As the months return in a whirlwind rush, on weary days in the streets, the figure of a woman pedals by gracefully, carrying a basket of lotus flowers emitting a fragrant scent. The gentle lotus flowers grace the streets, dispelling the suffocation of urban life. Closing my eyes, I inhale the familiar scent mingled with the earthy smell of mud, remembering the figure of a mother in her brown dress, her radiant smile under the white conical hat. The small boat cuts through the waves amidst the green lotus leaves, the mother plucks each lotus flower, bundling them into small bouquets, their stems still trailing, so that on the journey home, the scent of lotus lingers on. Oh, how much hardship my mother endured, so her children could stride confidently on the path to the future.

As the months return, in the cool breeze of the evening, the scent of orchids permeates the air. The sweet fragrance intoxicates the senses, leading us into the enchanting allure. Looking up at the pure white orchid blossoms, nestled amidst the lush green foliage, a young woman in her ao dai, gently tucks fallen flowers into her jet-black hair, her silhouette gradually fading into the small, bustling street. The lingering fragrance envelops the dreamy souls of those lost in the beauty of the months and years.

As the months return, amidst the fleeting emotions, I ask myself if I've passed through many seasons of vibrant blooms, will I ever regret the bygone youth, where there were moments of excitement, stumbles, pains, and shining moments of dedication like the flowers of May.

Nguyen Tham

Two flowers vie for attention as heralds of summer's arrival: the phoenix flower and the violet bang lang. While the phoenix flower boasts a fiery red hue, the violet bang lang blooms in shades of purple. Yet, it is the phoenix flower that garners more attention, finding its way into poetry and music more frequently. The violet bang lang, on the other hand, humbly nestles itself in memories, in the recollections of some, only to deeply permeate poetry and music, evoking poignant memories tinged with shades of purple. Unlike the blazing red of the phoenix flower or the ostentatious displays of other flowers, the violet bang lang innocently stands amidst the evening sky.

Among the various purple-hued flowers I know, perhaps the bang lang boasts the largest, most vibrant blooms. Delicate violets, diminutive ixora flowers, speckled lemon blossoms resembling peas, tiny jasmine or orchid blooms—all lovely in their own right and enduring in the forests. However, the bang lang, it surpasses them all in size—not just in its tree and branches, but also in its leaves and flowers, found everywhere. The bang lang flower has six petals, each measuring from 2 to 3 cm, arranged in clusters. Each cluster stretches 30 to 40 cm, even up to 50 or 60 cm long. Hence, people often refer to it as a bang lang flower branch, rarely as a single flower or a flower stem. The bang lang tree stands tall, some reaching twenty meters in height, with branches spanning several meters, adorned with a canopy of vivid purple flowers against the backdrop of the sky. So, go ahead, try gazing at the bang lang trees from afar, and you'll see—their branches resemble a giant floral dress. Quite colorful, quite ostentatious, indeed.

Early on a summer morning, I stroll leisurely down the street, and suddenly, heavens! On one side, the fiery red of phoenix flowers, while on the other, the soft purple of bang lang blooms. Both flowers rise up, bursting forth in splendor, competing in color. The phoenix flower boasts warm hues—it represents the yang. Whereas the bang lang flower exhibits cool tones—it represents the yin. The harmonious blend of yin and yang creates a truly refreshing summer. Adding to this, the summer orchestra of chirping cicadas plays the most jubilant, exuberant melodies, stirring excitement in all. We don't know where they are, rarely do we see them, and yet suddenly, from that floral canopy, at a certain moment, arises a truly magical sound that no insect can produce—the resonance of cicadas. Those colors, that sound intertwine to create the unique essence of summer.

The bang lang tree comes in many varieties: water bang lang, hairy bang lang, golden bang lang, shrubby bang lang, purple bang lang... Their flowers also come in yellow, lilac, and purple hues, but my favorite is the violet bang lang flower. Nowadays, this variety is the most widely cultivated, found everywhere. There are neighborhoods, streets lined only with violet bang lang trees. And naturally, those neighborhoods, those streets, everyone names them bang lang street, bang lang avenue. What could be more romantic than strolling hand in hand with your beloved on a bang lang-lined street on breezy summer evenings? Her hair billows, bang lang branches sway, beckoning, and her eyes sparkle with shades of purple.

The bang lang and I are alone now. Suddenly, within me, a flood of nostalgia wells up. The schoolyard of yesteryears, the commemorative bang lang tree, our names etched on the day of parting, still there. On the day of parting, friends exchanged phoenix flower clusters. Why did she give me a branch of violet bang lang flowers? Holding the branch she gave me, I stand dumbfounded. She runs off with laughter and mischievous eyes, leaving me standing like a statue beneath the bang lang tree. The clueless boy that I am only now understands— is the bang lang flower a symbol of loyalty? The innocence of the purple hue symbolizes first love from schooldays. Understanding this, she's gone. Every summer, when I see the bang lang flowers, I deeply, profoundly miss her. Where are you now, my violet bang lang? Oh, how I miss you, my bang lang! Not only purple of loyalty, but now the bang lang flowers also bear the purple of melancholy, the purple of longing, waiting. Is she waiting for me, or am I waiting for her? Perhaps both. We're on opposite ends of the world, but the violet bang lang embodies our shared, private sentiments.

The season of bang lang has returned. The sky is awash with hues of purple. Lost in thought, I walk beneath the flowers, reminiscing intensely about her. Where is the branch of flowers she gave me all those years ago? Where are her eyes, her smile from that day? Amidst these violet bang lang flowers, where are you now? Why does Manh Quynh's song 'Violet Bang Lang Flowers' keep echoing in my heart? And the chorus of cicadas? Oh, violet bang lang flowers!

Do Xuan Thu

The sun begins to turn golden, no longer hesitating like in the early days of spring. The sun, relentless and wandering, roams the fields, the streets, buzzing with the wind through the canopy of leaves, as the evening turns purple with summer.

Summer arrives, bringing rain to the sun, a thousand trees exchanging their thin green coats for thicker, greener ones. The rice flowers cease to fall, no longer igniting fires, yet they manage to return memories and nostalgia to the month of March. Making way for the purple of bằng lăng, the fragrant aroma of raspberries, the vibrant red of phoenix flowers. All signaling and earnestly inviting the arrival of Summer.

Summer arrives, the river opens its arms to welcome us, the young, gathering in groups of five, groups of three, joyfully swimming and frolicking. Then we run along the levee, pointing, laughing, racing to fly kites during summer vacation. Watching the barges on the Red River, we plunge into the water, embracing the waves as they crash onto the shore, embracing the simple joy of those days. Remembering the sunburned heads of Hong, Quang, Huy, and me, as we roasted grasshoppers by the embankment. All the happy days roaming the fields looking for grasshoppers. Summer arrives, the sun tanning the grass a bluish hue, fading the vibrant red of the roses, trees soaking in the sun, their shadows leaning, lost in the dream of chasing rainbows.

The years have fallen on the shaky threshold, there's a classroom window of mine that has endured the scorching summer, at Nguyen Gia Thieu school, counting the seasons with phoenix flowers and purple Summer. Surely, who could forget the sky full of white clouds, the faint traces of purple ink marking the hands of Summer. Far away... so long ago now, the distant lychee trees, the moss-covered rooftops, the old school, the seasons of phoenix flowers, the seasons of purple bằng lăng, the chorus of cicadas retreating into the leaves, singing the summer lullaby. Remembering the times we shared stories about purple bằng lăng, so that even on nights, we carried the purple into our dreams.

'Once upon a time, the Jade Emperor had twelve princesses. All the princesses, the Jade Emperor cherished equally. The twelve princesses were named after the most beautiful flowers. And each princess was named after the flowers the Jade Emperor loved the most. The youngest princess, being romantic and fond of purple, was named Purple Bằng Lăng. At the same time in the mortal realm, there was a poor scholar who, seeing the beautiful purple bằng lăng flower, fell in love with its beauty and gentleness. He then brought it home to plant.

Every year when the flowers bloomed, he became infatuated with the purple, falling deeply in love with that flower. The youngest princess of the Jade Emperor also greatly admired the literary talents of this poor scholar. She asked the Jade Emperor for permission to descend to the mortal realm and become his wife, but the Jade Emperor did not agree. From then on, Princess Purple Bằng Lăng lived in contemplation, rejecting all the proposals of the celestial princes, agreeing to none. The purple bằng lăng flower gradually faded its purple hue. While the poor scholar loved and was devoted only to Purple Bằng Lăng...'

Purple bằng lăng symbolizes the innocence, purity, unblemished, and most beautiful age of a person's life. Sometimes, by chance, we catch sight of the purple bằng lăng flower in the glaring sun, that moment, soothing the heart. Purple bằng lăng seems to quietly remind the beauty in our souls, as our school days have long passed...

Summer arrives, Summer closes the gates of our school, where are the phoenix trees and the purple bằng lăng trees, tilting to provide shade, where are the cheerful giggles of the girl friends? The nostalgic arrival of Summer now only leaves behind the faint sound of crickets to remember, to cherish...

Summer arrives... we grow up, each going our separate ways. Some at the end of the sky, some far beyond the horizon, heads now have two tufts of hair. Hong has followed his beloved grandmother back to the blue sky and white clouds, when his hair was still green and when the cicadas were still hiding in the ground, unable to sing the summer lullaby...Summer arrives, I hold in my hands two purple summers. The summer of childhood has passed, with burned scalps, sunburns on our backs, but full of burning love, sweetness, and cherished memories...

Le Minh

Since ancient times, flowers have always been a miraculous gift bestowed upon humanity by nature. In the scorching weather of March, purple lilies are blooming. Regardless of who admires or hastily passes by. Despite that silent, deserted road being a commuter route. Purple lilies don't ponder much but diligently bloom their purple flowers.

Purple lilies bear the color purple. Dreamy purple, purple of all emotions. Who has passed through the student years without feeling shy under that purple hue? I love flowers, I love the color purple which I deem divine. And as if by some coincidence or serendipity, in this city, every evening I get to admire the purple hue of the purple lilies.

Outside my workplace, a long row of purple lilies is flourishing. Along the wide, sprawling road, the purple lilies stretch forth offering their purple color and fragrance. Purple lilies are not as fragrant as other flowers.

But try once to tilt your face towards the blue sky, take a deep breath of the morning air into your chest and you will feel the scent of the earth blending with the fragrance of the purple lilies. Each flower with its bluish purple color speaks to us, telling us that amidst this multifaceted, colorful life, there is still a hint of romanticism as delicate as silk!

As the season of purple lilies arrives, that purple hue evokes memories tied to the student days, beside friends, beside teachers. And it seems somewhere, that purple hue is also a witness to farewells where the eyes of lovers brim with tears under the canopy of purple flowers...

This evening - a golden summer evening, amidst those verdant leaves, flowers bloom into clusters of purple. The pretty dresses become more prominent. The matching shirts seize the moment to capture the shared memories. Occasionally, a few young ones are allowed by their parents to practice riding bicycles on the street: pedaling vigorously.

Further down, one or two elderly folks sit on stone benches, gazing at the purple lilies lost in a distant reverie. Trees - flowers continue to follow one another in an elegant procession. Flowers in the sky, flowers by the roadside, and flowers even within the hearts of people in this beloved urban landscape.

Only now, human life ages with the years but love remains forever young like the purple lilies still bearing the purple hue of that dreamy time. So that one day when the leaves have changed color, when those people are no longer there, the purple lilies will still be vividly purple, embracing resentment, longing... The road has a name but to me, that road is the road of purple lilies to listen to affection, fondly reminiscent of my own.

Within me, the love for the purple hue of purple lilies remains intact!

DIEM KIEU

One April day, driving slowly through the streets, my heart rejoices at the sight of purple lilies blooming vividly on the branches.

Not being the flower of scholars, purple lilies are rarely planted in schoolyards like phoenix flowers, although their purple hue is enough to stir the innocent souls and touch the hearts that have never known love!

In the garden neighborhoods, modern-style villas, occasionally one might also come across a proud clump of purple lilies spreading their branches, flaunting their colors amidst a world full of ornamental flowers. But, precisely for that reason, its beauty cannot compete with the uniqueness of mutant orchids, with the expensive bonsai pots. Purple lilies fade in a world not their own.

So where does the place of purple lilies lie? Not in the old forests, not in the home gardens, purple lilies look best when nestled on the streets. So that one day upon awakening, suddenly realizing that our route is flooded with purple, our neighborhood has become a 'purple street', so poetic, so beautiful, deeply touching due to the purple hue of the lily flowers.

The beauty of purple lilies is a meticulous, patient beauty. If one only looks at purple lilies during the days when the trees nurture their bodies but not their leaves, one might be disappointed. Because purple lilies do not have the graceful, delicate demeanor like willow trees by the lake, nor the elegance, contemplation of upright trees like sycamores, poplars...

Purple lilies are short, their leaves at their best are neither lush nor verdant, not shiny green but spotted brown, looking pale and withered. Walking under the purple lily street in those seasons, sometimes we forget its existence like how we often forget the small, humble things around us.

After the spring season, purple lilies revive and celebrate when the April showers begin to arrive. Regardless of the season of white amaryllis flowers covering the ground, despite the vivid red phoenix flowers on the branches, purple lilies remain purple, enchanting, captivating... Each branch is a flower bed, each canopy is a flower arch, each purple lily street is a flower street. Looking up, it's a space swaying with purple flowers.

Seemingly aware of its lack of fragrance, purple lilies have squeezed their life out for the purple hue. There are new flowers that bloom indifferently, the longer the flower lasts, the duller its color becomes. Purple lilies are the opposite. Right when they spread their wings, they dedicate themselves fully to life with a pure, deep purple hue. The freshness, brilliance, and purity of those initial purple lily blooms make our hearts enamored and emotionally overwhelmed!

In the green morning, purple lilies bloom amidst the pinkish morning sunlight. In the golden sunset, purple lilies sparkle amidst the afternoon sunlight. Under the night dew, purple lilies become even more purple, deepening in the profound silence, swaying the streets.

A moment sitting under a purple lily tree, watching time drip in a cup of black coffee, watching the hurried crowd pass by, looking up to meet a purple flower canopy, the heart suddenly becomes gentle, peaceful, momentarily forgetting the anxieties competing with life.

Whoever has ever made promises under a purple lily tree, do they remember how the sky twinkled through the eyes of the flowers, through the leaves? And purple lilies, softly weaving a love story, dropping a few thin petals onto the shoulders, feeling shy rising in the lips, in the eyes...

Silently so, purple lilies beautify the streets, corners, and beautify even the hearts fervently in love.

Source: Gia Lai Newspaper

Tomorrow, April will arrive, carrying the summer sun on its shoulders. Summer comes early to the Southern land, bringing back countless memories of past days. I'll once again hear the melancholic cicadas chirping amidst the foliage, and the sudden rain at the beginning of the season will briefly cool the air. Sometimes, fleeting thoughts evoke countless memories of beloved summers gone by. I remember the naive days of youth, dreaming so much, recalling the Phoenix flowers blooming red in the corner of the schoolyard, or suddenly yearning for the purple hue of the Lagerstroemia - the color of flowers I love most every summer. The four seasons quietly cycle through time, and that purple appears in the early days of summer. Even though it's only a short month blooming with color, it still manages to enchant flower lovers, stirring anticipation and longing. Then when summer departs, it takes nearly a year before we can immerse ourselves again in the allure of those flowers. Although not as bold as the phoenix flower, nor as grand as the orchid, the Lagerstroemia still possesses its own unique charm. Gentle and pure, it embodies poetry, nostalgia, and the many lingering sorrows on every page of memory.

I enter the university lecture hall, long accustomed to the busy academic life, sometimes weary from part-time work, but never allowing myself to be swept away by the hustle and bustle of life here. I still maintain tranquility in my heart to calmly embrace the most peaceful and interesting moments from the surrounding world. My university has a fairly spacious campus, with many green trees planted everywhere. Along the long paths leading from the school gate through the lecture halls or the dormitory areas, the presence of Lagerstroemia trees can be felt. Every summer, these flowers awaken from their three-season slumber, new buds beginning to emerge among the green leaves. Just a few weeks later, the purple color starts to bloom all over the pathways, shimmering brightly under the early summer sun. Every step I take along these paths fills me with awe, as if I want to pause indefinitely to fully admire each blooming flower suffusing the entire corner of the sky with nostalgia. The Lagerstroemia looks resplendent in the morning sun, radiant in the afternoon, and even more gentle as the shadows of dusk begin to fall through the leaves. Sometimes, a breeze from afar inadvertently causes thin petals to fall gently onto the road. Many students often like to sit together under the Lagerstroemia trees to chat and confide in each other, sharing stories of joy and sorrow. Some even capture romantic photos beside these beloved purple flowers, making these clusters of Lagerstroemia over the years become a place of rendezvous. The chirping of cicadas seems to echo the changing seasons, while the sudden rain rushes in to cool the cramped space, the narrow paths leading back to the dormitories strewn with fallen flowers. Amidst that tranquility, looking out from the window and seeing those trembling petals gently fall amidst the pure drops of water suddenly lightens my heart after long weary moments buried in books. The surroundings seem even more beautiful than usual.

As summer approaches, memories of my school days are awakened within me. I want to become invisible and return to the past. I long for the soothing voice of my gentle teacher, the lively laughter of friends, and the path to school strewn with purple flowers... My first love back then was hastily written poetry, pressed into envelopes with Lagerstroemia petals to secretly send to someone. In those days, after school, we often rode bicycles through each street, searching for a place with long rows of stone benches beneath Lagerstroemia trees, lingering there to admire, to immerse ourselves in the dreamy purple hue, and to feel the stirring emotions yet unspoken. When the afternoon sun gradually spread across the small streets, the shadows of the tree branches covering the road were the moments I caught sight of white robes fluttering in the breeze, carrying baskets filled with the beloved purple of the slow-moving summer passing by. I stood still, watching until that moment faded away at the end of the street. May comes, the exam season approaches, bringing with it the sight of the Flamboyant flowers gradually appearing on the branches, while the purple of the Lagerstroemia is about to fade into legend. The thick ink of the diary vividly depicts the deep red hue, hiding countless secrets from that time, now only preserved in a few lines of letters. The distant days slowly recede into the future, but every time I see those withered Lagerstroemia branches, my heart yearns for something from a distant past that I can't seem to find.

Time flows along with countless images of a naive time, somewhere hidden is a sad purple amidst the vast memories. Summer is approaching again, just a few more weeks and I'll have the chance to admire the Lagerstroemia buds blossoming. In every nook of the university I attend, a gentle purple hue will adorn itself, allowing me to indulge in the newly blossoming flowers in the early summer sun and reminisce about the images of the past silently drifting in the subconscious.

HỨA PHÁT ĐẠI

That's the familiar path in my daily journey.

For nearly a year, amidst all the chaos, the ups and downs, at least twice a day I've passed through there, so every turn, every house, every gate, every tree... present here with their colors and conditions, I think I've memorized. There's a pothole here, I need to steer left. Over there's an open space, the wind will be stronger, I need to slow down. I drive according to the monotonous map I've programmed into a habit, but my mind, I usually leave it wandering with scattered thoughts.

It seems like there's something different about the road today. I look up at the canopy of leaves, my heart feels overwhelmed, stunned before the sky filled with purple flowers swaying in the afternoon sun. It turns out that because I've been too busy with thoughts about the noise, the bitterness of life, I haven't realized that I own such a beautiful road. This color of flowers isn't something I'm seeing for the first time, but a road only with purple flowers, this is indeed the first time I've discovered it.

Yet I was convinced that I understood every movement of the color and condition of the road. Surely the Lagerstroemia had bloomed buds during that time, but due to my absent-mindedness, until now, when the buds gently blossomed in unison, offering up a thick purple color engulfing the entire road, did I just notice. I couldn't resist the seductive purple, so I drove slowly, slowly, and then stopped completely. I parked by the roadside to be able to leisurely admire this floral sky more thoroughly. It's been so long since I've touched such a dreamy, gentle, peaceful space like this.

It's not just me who's captivated by the purple road. An old lady slowly walks past me, her eyes moist, unable to leave the clusters of Lagerstroemia buzzing under the sun and wind. It's very likely that her soul is flowing back somewhere to cherish the memories of a distant day. There's nothing strange about it, at any age, people all like to reminisce, reminiscing helps the soul find peace when rediscovering oneself.

Not as dazzling as the red phoenix, not as prominent as the golden orchid, nor as fragrant as the milk flower in autumn, but the Lagerstroemia carries a deep, romantic beauty to the heart. The flowers of longing, memories, and enduring love. Seasons come and go. Flowers bloom and flowers wither. That's how it goes, but the human heart can't be ossified over time, walking in the purple, I still meet myself with countless memories. The Lagerstroemia flowers evoke all the purple shades that have passed through my life. It's the familiar purple ink from the innocent school days. It's the gentle sister's dress, the familiar figure patiently waiting for me every time school ends. It's the warm hand of my close friend that placed a purple flower in my hand to comfort me when I was crying in a corner of the schoolyard... Can I ever forget.

Under my feet, a few flowers fall. I pick up the flowers, cradling them in my hand and turning the petals to admire. The flowers seem to touch the human heart, speaking on behalf of the colors of people. The petals are truly fragile. Honestly, I only find the Lagerstroemia beautiful when it's on the tree. The clusters of purple flowers, intermingled with each other, blend together, displaying their colors against the vast sky. At that moment, no one can distinguish which flower is more purple than the other, they complement each other, shield each other, lean on each other, bestowing upon each other freshness. When the Lagerstroemia flowers are gathered into clusters, they only speak of the shared perfection of color.

Although I knew beforehand, when summer comes the phoenix will be red in the corner of the sky and the Lagerstroemia will bloom purple on the street. But I can't escape the stirring emotions, the throbbing of my heart. A small road covered entirely in purple Lagerstroemia blooms, lovingly overwhelming. A thousand gentle words can now be uttered for life thanks to the simple, humble beauty that doesn't easily fade away.

Even though today may have brought some unpleasant incidents, life is inherently full of sunshine and rain... but I can overlook all that and easily find peace in my soul when immersed in the purple of Lagerstroemia. Don't believe it? Then take some time, quietly stroll to gaze upon the delicate, pure petals blossoming within yourself, and then you'll be enchanted by the purple just like me.

TRAN NGOC MY

The sun is rising gently... the purple hue of Lagerstroemia, the rich scent of leatherwood, the fiery red of phoenix flowers igniting... Everything, everything is signaling and inviting fervently the arrival of Summer...

Hanoi has entered Summer yet within us it seems we haven't caught up with the arrival of the season... Perhaps we don't need to look at the months, don't need to look at the years, just seeing the Lagerstroemia bloom, we know Summer is the month of May.

Our hearts suddenly pause at the slow pace of life as if it's almost stopping...

Heavens... Never before have we experienced such things, the days of social distancing so long, so long that none of us can avoid worries, can't avoid thoughts, will everything return to normal, will there still be beautiful things intact in life? But above all, surely each of us will have a more affectionate view of everything, more loving, more appreciative of what we have in this life, our feelings about everything will therefore be deeper, when the days of social distancing have slowed down our way of living to feel more positively about life?

The pandemic has taken away so many human lives, pushing people from being active to being dependent on so many things...

Just when we were happy, busy with work, with concerns and worries about society, about our families, about our loved ones.

What are we thinking, what are we doing when all of us are confined to our small homes while society with us still has a distance?

We remember this season well with Lagerstroemia blooming
A deep purple color of longing
Oh purple Lagerstroemia blooms along the entire road
Of a time so innocent, so pure
Flowers woven with sunlight, woven with our hearts more lonely
Gently the purple Lagerstroemia throughout the following days...

We long to stroll down the familiar road we've known for so long, we long to inhale the fragrance of flowers as the season passes through the streets... We long to be busy every day, long for moments with loved ones, with friends sitting together... to see in each other's eyes the joy or the rising joy of happiness...

Summer arrives in the alleys... We remember the seasons of flowers blooming as if they were written poems and yet still left unfinished ... seeing the strands of sunlight knitting on the rows of trees, on the petals and feeling the cold still lingering from yesterday.

We remember the smiles of Lagerstroemia as summer arrives bringing a deep purple color, that's when Lagerstroemia is eagerly calling for the exam season... but the exam season has missed its appointment...

We are lost when Lagerstroemia is broken, the streets now only see longing spread out, Lagerstroemia today is gradually turning into the color of longing, the wind keeps shaking the branches holding onto something tender when parting...

Our hearts suddenly sink when outside the sun is rising gently, then the sun will spread gold everywhere... dressing the season in leafy colors, flower colors. We see time passing by quickly, but inside we can't catch up with the rhythm. The rhythm of summer arriving when the pandemic has taken away the rhythm of the natural life we used to have.

Will the students still have time, the exam season has arrived but they can't take the exam. With the students absent and Lagerstroemia returning to the streets, what meaning does it have, will its purple color still make them innocent... the restless purple Lagerstroemia, the longing, the nostalgia ... the restless purple when leaving... Seeking a bit of the lonely smile of Lagerstroemia... the absence of the innocent smile of childhood...

Is tonight, the arrival of summer, still able to sleep in the streets? Next season has arrived yet the streets can't be calm. Can't sink deep when the heart keeps throbbing, looking into the night streets is there joy?

The streets stay awake at night, the streets sleep all day... Sadness fills the air, the streets are filled with the scent of the season...

Lagerstroemia arrives in purple and do the students still know, burdened with purple feelings if they fail to recognize. Tomorrow the streets will be startled awake, Lagerstroemia has arrived and it's time to leave...

“Who has soaked the petals in ink
Stuck on the sky an innocent illustration
With a bright summer on the chest
What do you say in the purple wings flying...”

(Poem: Do Huy Chi)

The busy days are the meaningful days, the busy days are the days full of love... the happy summers.

Author: Le Minh