Top 15 Beautiful Poems That Bring Back Memories of Old Tet

SPRING HAS ARRIVED, HASN'T IT?

Hạ Như Trần
"Welcoming this spring, remembering the spring of the past"

Spring returns, gently brushing the earth,
Listening to the leaves stir softly in the breeze.
Each day the sun calls for the dawn,
Flowers bloom, and birds sing their serenades.

Spring steps in closely, embracing the land,
Pouring love and warmth to all.
The earth and sky join in harmony,
The sounds echo like a burst of joy from the past.

Spring awakens, as if just stirred from sleep,
Trying to hold on to the old customs.
Gone are the warm kitchen fires,
The neighbors no longer gather together.

No more banana leaf bundles,
The sticky rice cakes prepared by the fire.
Children gather, singing with joy,
While the elderly sit and reminisce about old times.

No more afternoons spent drying cakes,
Hoping for clear skies to avoid the rain.
The village is alive with laughter and chatter,
As everyone greets each other on the streets.

Today’s busy world, full of tasks,
Worries and responsibilities tie us down.
Spring comes, Tet arrives, but somehow,
The old traditions seem to fade into the background, replaced by the pursuit of wealth.

During Tet, a few offerings on the altar,
To honor ancestors with respect.
Shopping at the supermarket to prepare,
Then the holiday is done, and life moves on.

And so, we return to the daily grind,
Tired from work, enduring the hardships.
Only wishing for success to come,
And for health and love to fill the family’s home.

REMEMBERING THE TET OF CHILDHOOD

Poem by: Hoàng Minh Tuấn

The winter fades, spring has arrived,
The grass, trees, and flowers are bathed in the glow of spring.
We've welcomed the spring, celebrated Tet so many times,
Yet every time it arrives, there's a lingering sense of nostalgia...

I remember Tet in my hometown,
Fireworks exploding in the streets, welcoming the new year.
Family gathered, sitting close together,
Cooking rice cakes, filling our hearts with warmth!

On the first day, we wouldn’t dare wander far,
Waiting for the first visitor to step inside, bringing good luck.
Then we’d follow the elders,
Visiting relatives and wishing them well for the year!

The money given as Tet gifts was a beautiful surprise,
Accompanied by joyful wishes that filled the air.
Even now, I remember those moments so clearly,
When spring passed, I longed for Tet to return swiftly!

Now, my hair no longer shines as bright...
The spring of the past remains in my heart, a perfect memory.
Thank you, spring, thank you, life,
Tet comes again, calling back those childhood days...

Hà Nội, 29/1/2019

SPRING IN UNFAMILIAR WORDS

Hoàng Chẩm

Our words, as if spring had promised,
You let your soul soar with a poem's refrain.
The dreams we shared left me with a longing heart,
And in the spring's embrace, you painted me a dream.

Through the night, my eyes linger on each word,
Whispered in quiet longing, as love yearns for its voice.
Those tender feelings surround me like a quiet warmth,
And I know the dream sparkles with all the messages it carries.

Ignoring the past, you let go in the stillness,
A sunset bathed in golden light touches your eyes and lips.
I bow my head, gazing at the faded rose in silence,
As waves of emotion rush, overwhelming my heart.

In my heart, I hear you speak words of a spring that has yet to fade,
Lulling me to a dream that carries the longing of half a lifetime.
The melody of love stirs my soul, as night covers us in its embrace,
And we wander through life, hands intertwined, chasing a shared dream.

January 27th, 2019

WAITING FOR MY CHILD'S RETURN

Lan Nguyenvan

As Tết approaches, my child will not come home,
Mother stands by the door, waiting and hoping,
My homeland is vast with endless fields,
While my heart is tethered, longing for you in the hammock.

Mother holds on to memories of your childhood,
Though it's been so long, you haven't come to visit.
Alone, I toil through the days,
And at night, I can't sleep, thinking of you.

I think of you as I cared for you each meal,
Remember how I pampered you, nurturing your every need.

Back then, I worked hard, saving every little bit,
Even when things were tight, we managed somehow.

Now I look at the rice, cassava, and soup I prepare,
With the fresh crab I catch, hoping you will come home and eat.
As I gaze at my children, I feel weary in my heart,
And I watch as they grow, each heading their own way.

Now that Tết has arrived, my heart aches even more,
Some are married far away, others are scattered.
How I wish to see them, hear their voices,
But here I stand, waiting alone each day.

In my heart, I look far and wide,
Wondering where you are, my child.
You are so far away, beyond the horizon,
I miss you so much, please come home soon.

My heart is as cold as ice without you here,
The evening in my hometown feels so lonely.

Without you, my heart feels like it’s bursting,
I wait for Tết to bring you back to me.

I just want to hold you, my dear children,
But if you can’t come, my heart will keep yearning.
Though you're scattered far and wide,
Come back to me, for your homeland, for your mother.

January 26, 2019 – translated by Văn Lan

SPRING MEETING MISSED

By Cảnh Hưng

Spring arrives, bursting with memories,
The breeze feels fragile, like a soft, quiet cry.
I stand before my house, my gaze heavy with sorrow,
My tangled hair reflects the grief in the grass and leaves.

Many of my friends ask if spring has arrived,
But I stay silent, eyes reddened with unshed tears.
I hear the echoes of a soft whisper,
The promise of spring in my mother’s homeland still lingers in my heart.

Twenty years since I left home,
But the memories remain, vivid and undisturbed.
Far away, life has been full of struggles,
But I still long for the day when we gather for the New Year's Eve meal that Mother prepares.

Spring knocks at the door, yet hides my hidden feelings,
When the path home is still without my footsteps.
For years, Mother has waited with a longing heart,
Wishing her child would return for the Tết celebrations this year.

I miss you, Mother, every spring that passes,
The tears fall, like pearls, on my tired cheeks.
Through this humble offering, I send my love on the wings of a bird,
Asking for your forgiveness, for my absence.

January 28, 2017.
Poem by Cảnh Hưng

MOM, SPRING IS BACK!

By Nguyễn Hường

With a rush of emotion, I think of returning to my hometown,
Stepping into the door, feeling the warmth of a mother’s embrace.

The years have passed quietly, but the longing remains,
A silent, deep concern, waiting for that reunion.

Spring returns, bringing another year of life,
Like the ripe fruit, gently ripened under the last rays of sunlight.

Spring brings beauty to every home,
And my heart overflows with love for my elderly mother.

Thinking back, my heart always stirs,
On the thirtieth of Tết, beside the pot of bánh chưng.

Gathered around the warm fire, laughing and chattering,
The air is filled with the sounds of joy and excitement.

On New Year's Eve, the sky glows with a bright, rosy hue,
We wish each other a prosperous new year, with hearts full of happiness.

In new clothes, we happily wander about,
Opening our arms wide to embrace the sweet scent of love and care.

Even though my skin is wrinkled and my hair is silver,
My eyes are tired, and my steps slow, my heart still holds on to my children.

I pray for my mother to stay strong and clear,
May the light of the lamp guide us, as I rely on you.

Poem by Nguyễn Hường
January 6, 2019

MOTHER'S BASKET
By Phạm Quang Thu

As winter comes, I find myself missing my mother deeply,
She always carried the basket, full of rice, bowls, and jars,
The fading sunlight, she would carry through the late afternoon,
And she carried the dreams of spring planted in the fields.

Mother, the New Year is near,
The spirits of the past return, filling the air with a quiet reverence.
Back then, she carried not only the basket but the poetry of life,
And the warmth of spring that awaited its bloom.

My heart aches for her, in sorrowful reflection,
The image of her basket haunts my thoughts, again and again.
Her basket, a symbol of tireless devotion,
Carried the weight of countless struggles, now gone.

I can feel the quiet arrival of spring, whispering softly,
My eyes fill with tears, knowing she is no longer here.

The basket remains, a memory wrapped in tenderness,
For my mother carried it all her life, and it is now on my shoulders.

RETURNING TO OLD TET

By Nguyễn Lan Hương

Come, let's return to the past,
To the market’s end, waiting for mother’s return.
The warmth of the evening, gathered by the hearth,
Listening to grandmother’s stories as the rice cakes are made.

On the thirty-first night, the smell of fireworks fills the air,
I breathe in the scent of earth and sky.
In the moment of New Year's Eve, we light incense for Buddha,
Wishing for warmth, happiness, and peace.

In the courtyard, firecrackers burst in red,
Bringing luck right to our doorstep.
Father smiles, you’re no longer a child,
On the first day of the year, we go with mother to the temple.

The spring is filled with the joy of raindrops,
The streets buzz with the rhythm of the holiday.
The peach blossoms sway, blooming with tender buds,
Everyone’s face shines with a joyful smile.

Let’s board the train and return to old Tết,
Let’s find our childhood selves again.
Once more, I’ll snuggle behind mother,
The train of childhood is waiting to take me home.

28-1-2016

MISS TÔNG CELEBRATES TET WITH THE TEACHER

By Tống Thu Ngân

(A Love Tale)

At the start of the spring, Miss Tông visits the teacher for Tết,
With baskets full of fruits, carrying them both with grace.
The sky, a soft blue, feels so vibrant,
Everything around, alive with joy and cheer.

The teacher’s house, shaded by the trees,
The Tet tree, dressed with ribbons, stands tall.
Teacher hangs the banners with celebratory words,
Wishing a Happy New Year, may the year be full of happiness.

Miss Tông skips joyfully in the spring,
Among her younger students, singing with delight.
The sound of drums and gongs fill the air,
Miss Tông's laughter echoes, as she joyfully steps along.

Yellow apricot flowers blaze in front of the teacher's house,
Miss Tông tilts her head beneath the tree's shadow,
Her small feet in red shoes step lightly,
And with a gentle bow, she greets the teacher.

The couplets on the wall, her cheeks glowing,
Miss Tông has always been a devoted student.
How many couplets has she learned so far?
Each day, every word, she shares with the teacher...

TỐNG THU NGÂN 1070

THE OLD WRITER

By Vũ Đình Liên

Every year, when the peach blossoms bloom,
The old writer is seen again.
Setting out his ink and red paper,
By the bustling street, where people pass by.

Many people come to hire him,
Praise his skill with admiration.
His brushwork dances like birds in flight,
Like a dragon soaring in the sky.

But each passing year, fewer come,
Where are the clients who once sought his pen?
The red paper fades, no longer bright,
The ink sits idle, unmoved in the stone ink-well.

The old writer remains, seated still,
No one notices him as they walk by.
Yellow leaves fall on the red paper,
Outside, the sky is misted with light rain.

This year, the peach blossoms bloom again,
But the old writer is nowhere to be found.
Where are the souls of the old days?
Where have they gone, their spirits now lost?

THE TET CAKE POT

By Trịnh Thanh Hằng

Time passes swiftly, with a blink,
Another year has come to an end.
The market on the sixteenth day after the full moon,
We buy leaves, buy strings to wrap the cakes tight.

In Lang Liêu's time, he made,
For the king, cakes that symbolized the earth and sky.
Fatty pork is cut into pieces,
Seasoned with fish sauce, salt, and pepper just right.

Green beans are peeled in the noon sun,
The golden rice is cleaned and prepared.
Dong leaves, green and pure,
Wrapped around the rice, pork, and beans with care.

Children run around, filled with excitement,
Grandma, tie the strings so the cakes won't burst.
Happily they run in circles,
Asking for a cake, any cake to wrap.

The fire crackles, the warmth fills the room,
Cheeks rosy and bright, Grandma so dear.
Grandchild says, "I love you, I love you so much."
The spring has arrived, and the kite flies far.

As more pots of cakes pass by,
The child will grow, taking over for Grandma to welcome spring.
Sitting by the fire, surrounded by loved ones,
The child will wrap the cakes, while Grandma makes the next batch.

Then one day, with age's slow march,
Teeth will fade, hair will turn silver.
But I hope that spring will never hurry,
And the Tet celebration will linger with all its time to share.

Poem and image: Trịnh Thanh Hằng

THE THIRTIETH DAY OF TET - MISSING MOM

Lê Hương

I've walked almost all of life,
Yet never truly understood the lullabies Mom sang.
Now she has passed on to the eternal realm,
No longer can I see her waiting in the doorway.

On the thirtieth day of Tet, the family reunion,
I return home, but Mom is no longer there.
The evening sun fades, casting shadows on the ground,
And it feels as though even the earth shares the pain of separation.

I still remember the path back to Mom's embrace,
But now, without her, the village roads seem emptier.
On the thirtieth day of Tet, at the beginning of the New Year,
My heart aches with longing, wishing I could see her again.

REMEMBERING THE OLD TET!

Lan Trần

The warm breeze signals the arrival of spring,
The change of seasons tinged with golden hues of Tet.
The streets are filled with a gentle, nostalgic scent,
As if the very breath of spring is drawing near.

I recall the Tet of my childhood with longing,
The joy of spring returning home.
With Mom, we'd pluck fresh banana leaves,
To wrap a dozen cakes, so round and neat.

It seems like just yesterday, with innocent joy,
We greeted Tet in new shoes from Mom.
Wearing new clothes, everything fitting just right,
The sound of fireworks announcing the New Year.

The Tet of old was filled with warmth and love,
Even though the feast was simple, not like today.
Only sweet cakes and dried fruits to share,
But the joy of both young and old was undeniable.

We would wish each other the best for the year ahead,
Wishing Grandparents good health, wishing for peace.
Wishing Parents long life and happiness,
Wishing the children good grades, and for their dreams to come true.

The three days of Tet passed so peacefully,
Even the mischievous kids would go around wishing everyone well.
Wishing Aunts and Uncles a prosperous year,
With fortune flowing like rice in the fields.

The Tet of my hometown was full of love,
Uniting neighbors and families both near and far.
The memory of Tet lingers in my heart,
No matter how far I go, I long to return.

To sit by the fire of my village,
To relive the memories of my childhood...

Lan Trần 28/01/2019

REMEMBERING THE OLD TET

Hồ Viết Bình

The scent of incense drifts in the wind,
Stirring my heart with memories of Tết past.
The image of my old mother pickling shallots,
Simmering dried bamboo shoots, mushrooms, and pig’s feet.

I eagerly roll red papers,
In shades of purple, yellow, and green, beside fresh flowers.
Outside, the rice, beans, and leaves are all ready,
Waiting for the pork to complete the Tết cakes.

The little ones light firecrackers, the sound echoes through the air,
The puppy hides in fear under the bed.
The rooster crows loudly, breaking my heart,
It is destined for the transformation into a blissful paradise.

Sweet candied squash, ginger, coconut, and peanuts,
The fire crackles softly as my sister stirs the pot.
The thin smoke stings my eyes,
As I wipe the tears that blur my sight.

My father arranges the cakes in the pot, moving slowly,
The fire crackles merrily, glowing red.
The peach tree, like it remembers its caretaker,
Opens its delicate buds, eagerly waiting.

Oh, how distant the old Tết feels,
So far away, yet so incredibly dear.
As the year ends, my heart fills with longing,
The fragrance of incense fills the air— signaling Tết is near.

Hồ Viết Bình

TET RETURNS, REMEMBERING GRANDMOTHER
Poem by Trương Túy Anh

How I wish to turn back the years,
To the warm kitchen, where we talked and laughed.
The curious children, playful and bright,
Eager to hear fairy tales, dreaming of magic.

My grandmother, chewing betel nuts with a smile,
The morning dew dampening her salt-and-pepper hair.
Her hands always busy, stirring the fire just right,
So the cakes would be soft, fragrant, and perfect.

The flickering firelight dances and swirls,
As Grandmother’s shadow moves in the quiet night.
The family gathered, together and warm,
Enjoying the simple joy of togetherness and love.

As dawn breaks, the sun calls for a new day,
The cakes are ready, and we sing in celebration.
Now, Grandmother is far away...
The sky is blue... and I search... as if she is here.

Grandmother, oh how I miss you dearly,
I long for those days of childhood once more...

28/1/2019