Top 10 Remarkable Poems by Poet Chế Lan Viên

The Seeker of the Nation's Image

The country is incredibly beautiful. But Uncle must depart
Let me become waves beneath the departing boat
As the shore gradually recedes, villages disappear
All around, not a trace of bamboo rows

On the first distant night, who can sleep
The waves under the boat aren't the waves of the homeland
The sky from here isn't the blue of the homeland
Far from the country, one understands the country's pain

We sleep cramped in narrow beds
A dream crushes us like a falling axe
Happiness lies within a beautiful robe
A peaceful house casts shadows on the soul

A hundred dreams can't withstand a thick night
We endure the pouring rain and blowing wind
Our hearts become puppets
For life pulls the strings

Around Hoan Kiem Lake, no one discusses the Le Dynasty
Our hearts have become moss, old stories
No more leaders' warm hearts
Searching for a path for the nation to follow

No longer do we understand 'The Seeker of the Nation's Image'
Not the image of a carved stone poem
A familiar corner of the homeland
Or an invisible figure in distant mist

But the image of the nation, sometimes present sometimes absent
Golden hues of ancient times, red hues of the future
The posture of the entire nation
A refined manner for twenty-five million people

Do you remember, oh chilling wind of Ba Le
A red brick, Uncle resisted an entire icy season
And London fog, do you remember
The tears of the one who lost amidst the midnight?

Life builds ships swaying on the waves
He travels asking across the continents of America, Africa
Land of freedom, skies of servitude
Revolutionary paths are being sought

In dreams of the country, in visions of the nation
Grasses in dreams are the vivid colors of our homeland
Eating a delicious morsel is also bitter for the Motherland
No peace when gazing upon a flower

How will our people live tomorrow?
Where will the Red River flow? And history?
When will the Truong Son Range awaken from slumber?
The hand of the immortal Phu Dong will reach the clouds?

Then how will the flag be? The song?
The smile?
Oh, independence!
Green knows how much the homeland's sky is
When freedom arrives shining upon our heads

Look, the Russian sun shines brightly in the East
Bitter trees have borne sweet fruit
The bitter ones have shared in happiness
Golden stars fly alongside the sickle and hammer

The Manifesto to Uncle Ho. And He wept
Tears fell on Lenin's name
Four walls silently hear Him turn pages of folded books
Thinking outside, the country awaits news

He shouted alone like speaking to the nation
'Here's rice and clothes! Happiness is here!'
The Party's image within the image of the Nation
The first minute of crying is the minute Uncle Ho smiled

Uncle sees:
our people bring bowls of rice with sweat and tears
Rice paddies return to the plowman
Lead mines, coal mines, golden forests, silver seas
No longer bodies left by the roadside

The enemy has been driven away. The sky sings
Electricity flows with the moon into the worker's bedroom
The peasant has become an intellectual
Darkness needs labor now transformed into heroes

The nation of Vietnam for a thousand years of Đinh Lý Trần Lê
Becomes the Vietnamese people's nation in cool springs
Thatched roofs of a thousand years turn red with new tiles
Even ordinary lives have shadows of shelter

Oh! The road to Lenin is the road to the homeland...
The Moscow snow that morning is a hundred times cold
In the white snow like collected tears
Lenin is gone. But Uncle doesn't stop

Lenin's Manifesto follows Him back to Vietnam
The border is still far. But Uncle sees it has arrived
Look, Uncle's shadow is kissing the ground
Listening within the pink hue, the image of the Motherland's fetus

1960

Source:
1. Light and Swamp, Publishing House of Literature, 1960
2. Chế Lan Viên Complete Collection, Compiled and Edited by Vũ Thị Thường, Publishing House of Literature, 2002

Spring

Did I wait? Did I anticipate?Why does spring bring more sorrow?- To me, everything seems meaninglessEverything is nothing but pain!Who will return to the previous autumn?Pick up some yellow leaves for me?With fresh flowers, thousands of petalsCome here, block the path of spring!Who knows my soul is intoxicated with illusions?Thoughts of autumn hinder the spring season?There's a poor person who doesn't know TetWearing a worn-out jacket in the autumn chill!There's an innocent child who doesn't know how to crySuddenly bursts into laughter!Oh, longing! Oh, yearning!A lonely autumn bird strays at the end of the horizonSource:1. Vu Thi Thuong, Complete Works of Che Lan Vien, Publishing House of Literature, 20022. Selected Vietnamese Literature (Volume 7: Literature Period 1900-1945), National Social Sciences and Humanities Center, Social Sciences Publishing House, 2004 Call now

The Song of the Ship

Northwest? What's special about the NorthwestWhen our hearts have become shipsWhen the motherland sings in all directionsOur soul is the Northwest, where else can it be?This ship sails to the Northwest, will you go?Friends go far, you guard the Hanoi skyDo you hear the wind roaring outside?That ship hungers for moonlit edgesA vast country, your life is narrowThe ship calls you, why haven't you left?There's no poetry amidst closed heartsYour soul awaits you up thereIn the Northwest! Oh, ten years in the NorthwestSacred land of forests and mountains, now heroicWhere our blood seeped into the earthToday ripe fruits adorn the early springOh, resistance! Ten years like a flameA thousand years later, still strong enough to light the wayYou've gone, but you need to go furtherFor you to return to meet the beloved motherYou meet the people like deer returning to the old streamGrass welcomes wells, swallows meet the nestLike a hungry child finding milkThe cradle suddenly meets outstretched armsI remember you, my partisan brotherThe brown coat you wore on night dutyThe brown coat patched throughout a lifetimeLast night, you took it off for meI remember you, my mother! Thick forests await you, dense forests awaitMorning in Na village, afternoon across Bac villageTen full years! Not a lost letterI remember you! The red fire illuminates the silver hairFive painful years, you stayed awake for a long seasonYour with me not just a severed veinBut a lifetime memory of nurturingI remember the misty village, the cloud-covered passWherever I go, why doesn't my heart love?When we are here, it's just where the land isWhen we leave, the land becomes our soul!I suddenly miss you like winter misses coldOur love is like golden honeybee wingsLike spring comes to change the forest bird's feathersLove turns strange land into homelandI hold your hand at the end of the campaign seasonPressing rice to feed your army hidden in the forestNorthwest soil without a calendarDay one rice still remembers the smell of fragranceDoes the country call us or does our heart call?Your love is awaiting, your mother's love is waitingLet the ship paddle quickly for usMy eyes yearn for a hundred tiled red roofsMy eyes remember faces, my ears remember voicesThe people's season spread ripe fieldsTurning people around, holding hands to comeThe land's hot asphalt of hard workHot asphalt of ten years of people's bloodThe Northwest, oh, you are the mother of poetryTen years of war, our gold hurts in the furnaceNow back, we reclaim our goldWe reclaim even the dreams! Who says the ship has no dreams?Every night without drinking a moonbeamMy heart is like a ship, I drink tooIn your pink face in the big spring stream. According to Prof. Ha Minh Duc in the Writer's Talk about the work, this poem was written by Che Lan Vien in a painful and weak condition, unable to go anywhere, while his colleagues were doing fieldwork in many places. The poem was written as a self-consolation, originally titled The Northwest Ship.This poem was used in the 12th grade Literature textbook period 1990-2006, but has been converted to additional reading in the 12th grade Literature textbook from 2007.Source:1. Light and Mists, Literature Publishing House, 19602. Complete Works of Che Lan Vien, Vu Thi Thuong Collection and Compilation, Literature Publishing House, 2002

...The Joy Now

The sun brings a new season to a hundred homesThe lament of life's wind has ceasedMother lulls her child with a soldier's songLife is too joyous, even the old clothes are fastenedSource: Complete Works of Che Lan Viên, Literature Publishing House, 2002 (compiled and edited by Vu Thi Thuong)

The Heron

Upon my hand, a heron restsI am yet to know what a heron isBut in my mother's songA heron's wings take flight:'The heron flies hereThe heron flies thereAt Cổng PhủAt Đồng Đăng...'Alone, the heron must seek its mealWith my mother, I play and then sleep'The heron dines at nightThe heron ventures farThe heron encounters tender branchesThe heron fears the bamboo...'Sleep peacefully, dear heron, fear notThe branches are soft, mother's hand is readyIn my mother's lullaby, the scent of spring seepsI am yet to know the heron, the craneI am yet to know the soft branches my mother singsMother's milk abundant, I sleep without worryIISleep peacefully, sleep soundly, sleep wellFor the white heron to come acquaint itselfThe heron stands around the cradleThen the heron enters its nestAs I sleep peacefully, so does the heronIts wings, shared with my ownTomorrow grown, I follow the heron to learnThe white wings of the heron follow my footstepsGrowing, growing, growing...What do I do?I become a poetThe white wings of the heron continue to fly endlesslyBefore the porchAnd in the cool breeze of verseIIIEven if near or farEven through forests and seasThe heron will find meThe heron forever loves meEven when grown, still mother's childThrough life's journey, mother's heart followsOh dear!Only one heronMother's song of the heronIs life's journey tooThrough the cradleSleep on, sleep on!For the heron, the craneFor the entire skyTo come singAround the cradleSource: Complete Works of Chế Lan Viên, Publishing House of Literature, 2002 (compiled and edited by Vũ Thị Thường)

Looking Back at Winter

Glancing back at winter, fond of old friends
Many have yet to escape the winter's grasp
You arrived after spring, albeit late
Welcomed by a myriad of roses

An adversary of mine has departed
The cold winter winds fade away
Today bidding farewell to illness
You lead me outside

Reflect on that season, oh my love!
Days and months slowly fade from memory!
Life seemed buried beneath the earth
Now it returns, doubled in humanity
Happiness gleams in weary eyes
Nights short, yet days seem endless
I become the most beautiful bird
From evening until morning star
Singing by the cool streams
Heart shared with others
Flying to verdant forests
Eating the wholesome grains beneath the soil
Days without withering or falling...

Looking at eyes devoid of tears
Seeing veins vanish from green hands
Looking at calves now taut
Beholding the rosy complexion
Reflecting in the pink mirror
Standing tall among towering branches
Walking, dreaming of lengthy strides
Oh, the miles of work
Heavy backpacks on weary shoulders
Morning arrives at distant construction sites
Night falls with the sleep of stars
Perhaps to a mist-covered village
Floor ablaze, sharing split taro
No place not part of the beloved homeland
No love the Party teaches the people

The pond's blue, circular, lychee-shadowed edge
Summer sun urges white blossoms to bloom
Phoenix trees change the color of rice trees
Glistening in bright-colored robes
Whose pink silk hurries to ripen
Like strands of days hung for drying
Golden threads weaving my heart
Already sweet as wine
Already round as lips
Sparrows are just sparrows
Cuckoos sing in pairs
Birds, don't rile my soul
That bird's persistent call
I embrace life, how it withers
Stop calling, bird!

Source: Complete Works of Chế Lan Viên, Publishing House of Literature, 2002 (compiled and edited by Vũ Thị Thường)

My Source of Inspiration

In response to Mr. Thanh Tinh's poem 'Source of Sensitivity' (Countryside)A thousand years ago, the temple ablaze with fireWarriors' swords swaying amidst the Cham landsA thousand years ago, the resounding cheers awakenIn the land of peace, blood flows profuselyThat blood flows through countless centuriesUnder the veil of forgetfulness, beneath the mistOne evening, so deserted, so forlornThat blood flows, flooding my entire beingOne evening, cherry blossoms, flowing gracefullyAs the blunt pen gently pours forth crimson bloodThere, the mysterious or vivid scenesThat one saw in the twilight of DECAY(24-12-1936)Source: Complete Works of Che Lan Vien, Publishing House of Literature, 2002 (collected and compiled by Vu Thi Thuong)