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The homeland and the nation have always been an endless source of inspiration for poetry, evoking deep emotions of love and nostalgia. The image of Vietnam's homeland stirs a profound affection, with a sense of longing and patriotism. To help you experience this feeling more vividly, Mytour presents a selection of the most beautiful poems about Vietnam's homeland and nation in the article below.
1. Poems about Vietnam's homeland and nation for children
1.1 The Rice Field Poem - Author: Nguyễn Quang Vinh
On the fertile land
The child is blissfully gazing
At the misty mountain ranges
The golden rice fields
Rustling in the early morning sun
The farmers
Are catching pests and irrigating
To ensure the rice grains grow plump
And turn into rice for the child to eat.
1.2 Where My Childhood Is - Author: Nguyễn Lãm Thắng
There is a green river
Flowing from the milk of the mother
There is a round moon
Floating above the village's bamboo grove
There are seven colors of the rainbow
Spanning across the lush hills
There is a lullaby so tender
Sweetly rocking in the cradle forever
There is a lush green field
Where the white storks love to gather
There are rainy and sunny days
Lingering on the clothes of mother and father
There is a folk song
Fragrant with the scent of wild grass
There is a childhood that remains beautiful
It is the land and sky of the homeland.
1.3 Returning to the Village - Collected
During the summer break, the child visits the village
Going to the fields, bathing in the river
Visiting grandmother and then grandfather
Flying kites and fishing—nothing more joyful than this
At night, the child gazes at the moon
Listening as the moon tells tales of Sister Hang from long ago
Is the roasted peanuts fragrant yet?
Inviting grandparents, the child happily chats away.
1.4 I Love My Homeland - Author: Nguyễn Lãm Thắng
I love my homeland
With its emerald rice fields and green coconut groves
With fragrant flowers and healthy fruits
With a river reflecting the light of the beloved moon
The bamboo grove carries the sound of the kite's flute
The folk song hums the soothing lullaby
The four seasons are four lines of poetry
Sweet and warm by the shore of folk rhymes
The Truong Son mountain range stretches high
The clouds mingle with the leaves, and the streams hum with song
The misty pass holds the glow of the moon
The golden forest is filled with the scent of thousands of blooming flowers
The East Sea is filled with countless ships
Holding heavy loads of fish, waiting for the return journey
The sails are filled with wind, passionately carried
The waves keep gently lapping, embracing with love
Across the countless roads
The history of Vietnam is deeply etched, bright with tales of heroes
The many legendary victories
That have shaped the proud nation we see today
1.5 Hanoi - Author: Trần Đăng Khoa
Hanoi has a spinning top
That keeps turning inside the house
No need for the wind to blow
No need for friends to run far
Hanoi has many flowers
Carefully bundled into bouquets
Some little ones come to buy flowers
Smiling, heading to the frontlines
Hanoi has Hoan Kiem Lake
The water is as green as ink
By the lake stands the Pen Tower
Writing poetry to the heavens above
Hanoi has many moats
Filled with bullets and guns
And many dolls
Round balls for the friends to play with
Hanoi has a tram
That keeps ringing its bell
People get on and off
Everyone looks so beautiful
For many years, the enemy attacked
But Ba Dinh still stands with its green trees
The golden moon shines on the One Pillar Pagoda
At Tay Ho, the flowers are in the breeze...
1.6 The First Lesson for My Child - Author: Đỗ Trung Quân
What is the homeland, mother?
Why does the teacher say we must love it?
What is the homeland, mother?
Anyone who goes far away will miss it dearly
Homeland is the sweet starfruit cluster
For me to climb and pick every day
Homeland is the path to school
Where I return to see the yellow butterflies flying
Homeland is the blue kite
That my childhood released over the field
Homeland is the small boat
Gently paddling the water along the riverbank
Homeland is the small bamboo bridge
Where mother returns with a leaf hat tilted to shield
It is the fragrance of wildflowers
Floating in the summer night's dreams
Homeland is the warm embrace
Where I sleep peacefully during the rainy night
Homeland is the bright moonlit night
The betel flowers falling white on the doorstep
Homeland is the golden pumpkin flower
It is the purple morning glory along the fence
It is the red hibiscus on both sides
And the pure white lotus flower
Each person has only one homeland
Just like there is only one mother
If anyone forgets their homeland...
They will never truly grow into a person.
1.7 Drawing the Homeland - Author: Định Hải
The green and red pencils
I sharpen both ends
I try two colors
Fresh green, deep red.
I draw the village
With green bamboo, green rice
The winding stream
A cool, flowing current
The sky is vast
Deep blue of autumn
The color of dreams
I turn the red pencil
Draw my house
The roof is bright red
The school on the hill
I paint with bright red
The cotton tree at the village edge
Its flowers blooming brightly
Ah, the sun is up
The national flag
Flutters in the blue sky...
Sister, look at the picture
Our homeland is so beautiful!
1.8 The River of My Homeland - Author: Nguyễn Lãm Thắng
The beloved river
Carries the fragrance of rice
Brings the warmth of the kite
Holds the clouds of the wind
The river of my homeland
Brings the source of the stream
Brings the day of the night
Holds the moon of Cuội
The timeless river
Carries my childhood
The gentle passing of years
Holds countless dreams.
2. Short Poems About Homeland and Vietnam's Country
2.1 The Sound of the Homeland Bell - Author: Cao Tuế
This evening, the temple bell still rings
Boong… boong… echoing, carrying a whole region
With a deep and affectionate love for the homeland
Stirring those who stay, touching the hearts of those who leave
The village path, the well, the bamboo grove
The bell’s sound echoes, illuminating the soul of the homeland
The years, weary and distant, like the horizon
The bell’s sound follows the long journey of separation
Now the bell rings once again
Boong… boong… murmuring with love for the homeland.
2.2 The Countryside - Author: Đức Trung
I quietly reminisce about a countryside
Wishing to return to the days of my childhood
The green fields where storks soar
The fragrance of lotus fills the air with dreams on those afternoons
The breeze whispers, carrying the song of the kite
Someone’s shadow, just like my mother’s, waiting patiently
The river, the dock, and the boat
A traveler stops by the shore
Far away, the bell rings softly
The bamboo grove at the village’s edge, the birds singing sweetly
My childhood loved to play hide and seek
The banyan tree and the well still reflect the moonlight
Though far away, my homeland lingers in my heart
Always calling me to return to the past…
2.3 My Seaside Homeland - Collected
My homeland is by the sea
The landscape is incredibly beautiful
The vast blue sea
The waves crash against the sandy shore
The morning is filled with songs
As groups of boats set sail
In the evening, the sun casts its shadow
The boats return, full of fish
My homeland is rich and beautiful!
I love it deeply.
2.4 Waking Up Early - Author: Võ Quảng
Who wakes up early
Steps outside the house
The betel nut tree is blooming
Awaiting someone
Who wakes up early
Heads to the fields
The eastern sky awaits
Ready for the day
Who wakes up early
Runs up the hill
All of earth and sky
Are waiting too.
2.5 Lotus Pond - Author: Nhược Thủy
The lotus flowers have bloomed
Brilliantly filling the pond
A gentle breeze carries
The sweet fragrance
The lotus leaves are green and cool
With drops of dew from the night
The breeze stirs softly
As the dew sparkles and dances.
2.6 Beloved Spratly Islands - Author: Nguyễn Thị Loạt
The vast sky and endless sea
A land of islands so dear
The soldiers there on the front lines
Hold their rifles tight, guarding against invaders
The sea connects distant islands
Spratly, cherished, protected through the years
All the people place their trust
Ensuring peace for our nation each day
Peace and happiness, how joyful
Spratly, beloved, always with you, my friend.
2.7 The Everlasting Scent of Home - Author: Hiền Nhật Phương Trần
Your long hair flowing down your shoulders
The shadow of home stretches far behind
The riverbank waits for a bridge to be built
The fields of rice stretch wide, a vibrant green
I love my homeland, the sweetness never fades
The melody of a peaceful song rings clear
The Hue folk song echoes far
I send my love, waiting for the homeland's embrace
In the early morning, the phoenix blooms in pink.
Oh, how I wish for a love that will never fade!
3. The Best Poems About Homeland and Vietnam
3.1 The Country - Author: Nguyễn Đình Thi
This autumn feels different now.
I stand in joy, listening amidst the mountains and hills.
The wind blows through the bamboo forest, swaying.
The autumn sky has put on a new coat,
The blue sky here belongs to us,
The mountains and forests here belong to us,
The fragrant fields of rice belong to us,
The vast roads stretching ahead belong to us,
The rivers flowing with rich silt belong to us.
Our water,
The water of the people who have never been defeated.
At night, you can hear the land whispering,
Old times echo in our hearts!
... (excerpt).
3.2 Vietnam, Our Homeland - Author: Nguyễn Đình Thi
Vietnam, our beloved land,
Vast and endless, the sea of rice, no sky is more beautiful.
The storks fly gracefully,
The mist hides the peak of the Truong Son mountains morning and evening.
How dearly we love our homeland,
How many generations have endured great pain.
The faces of our people are worn,
Both men and women wear the same brown clothes stained with mud.
The poor soil nurtures our heroes,
Who rise again after being immersed in blood and fire.
They trample the enemy into the earth,
Throwing away their weapons, returning to being peaceful as before.
Vietnam, the land bathed in sunshine,
Flowers fragrant, fruits sweet, with four seasons of blue skies.
The eyes of a girl, dark and bright,
Who loves truly and loyally.
The land of a hundred crafts from a hundred regions,
Strangers come and are amazed by what they find.
Hands that seem to hold magic,
Weave thousand poems from bamboo leaves.
The waters remember the ferry docks,
At night, the sounds of the Trương Chi folk songs still echo.
Poverty forces us to part,
The hearts of those who leave the homeland are filled with sorrow.
As we go, we remember the mountains and forests,
As we go, we remember the rivers lapping at the shores,
Remember the fields, the sweet potatoes and corn,
The bowls of rice, water spinach, and crispy eggplant...
3.3 The Country - Author: Nguyễn Khoa Điềm
When we grew up, the Country was already there.
The Country exists in those "once upon a time..." stories my mother often told.
The Country began with the betel leaf my grandmother chews now.
The Country grew when our people learned to plant bamboo to fight invaders.
Mother's hair is tied up at the back of her head.
Parents love each other with the bitterness of ginger and salt.
The beams and columns have their names.
The rice grain is made through one sun, two rains—milled, pounded, sifted, and cleaned.
The Country has existed since then...
The land is where you go to school.
The water is where you bathe.
The land is where we make promises to each other.
The land is where you lost your scarf in a quiet moment of longing.
The land is where 'the phoenix bird flies back to the silver mountain.'
The water is where 'the fish, the sea lord, swims in the distant ocean.'
Time is endless.
Space is vast.
The land is where our people gather.
The land is where birds return.
The water is where the Dragon resides.
Lạc Long Quân and Âu Cơ,
Gave birth to our people in eggs.
Those who have passed away,
Those who are here now,
Love each other and bear children.
Carry the legacy of those who came before us.
Teach our descendants about the future.
Every year, wherever we are,
We bow our heads to honor the ancestors' death anniversary.
In both you and me today,
There is a part of the land and water.
When we hold hands,
The land and water in us are harmonious and full of love.
When we hold hands with everyone,
The land and water are complete and vast.
When my children grow up,
They will take the country far away.
To the days full of dreams.
Oh my dear, the land and water are our blood and flesh.
We must be connected and share it.
We must transform into the shape of our homeland.
And build the country for eternity...
(Excerpt from the epic poem 'The Road of Desire')
3.4 The One Who Searches for the Shape of Water - Author: Chế Lan Viên
At night, I dream of water, and by day, I see its shape.
The trees and grass in my dreams are green like the homeland.
When I eat something delicious, my heart feels bitter for the fatherland.
I can't be at peace when I gaze at a single flower.
What will our people’s future be like tomorrow?
Where will the Red River flow? And what about history?
When will the Truong Son mountain range awaken from its slumber?
When will the divine hand of Phù Đổng stretch out to the clouds?
What will our flag look like? What will our songs sound like?
What will our smiles look like?
Oh, independence!
How blue is the sky of our homeland,
When freedom shines brightly above us.
(Excerpt)
The Love Poems of a Seafaring Soldier - Author: Trần Đăng Khoa
You set sail,
The clouds hang in the sky with white sails.
In that moment of parting, you stroll along the dock,
The sea on one side and you on the other.
The sea is loud, but you remain gentle.
You spoke a few words and then smiled quietly.
I am like a ship, listening to the waves from both sides.
The sea on one side and you on the other.
Tomorrow, tomorrow when the city lights shine,
My ship will anchor beneath a faraway cluster of stars.
The deep waters flow, yet I am never alone.
The sea on one side and you on the other.
Our country has never known peace,
The storm has never ceased in the rings of white mourning.
I stand guard. The night is late. The island is empty.
The sea on one side and you on the other.
The sky above may no longer have you in it.
I don’t understand anymore. It’s just me and the grass.
Even so, I will always remember.
The sea on one side and you on the other.
3.6 Về Làng - Tác giả: Nguyễn Duy
Our village is deep in the heart of the land.
Every few years, I return to the village.
The old tree and stone are still here,
Buffaloes roam slowly, as they always have.
My father holds the hoe in his hand.
Our house is more worn down than before.
His back is bent, his skin sunburned, and his body thin and frail.
With no teeth, he still smiles.
The wine is kept for when I return,
A bit of sweet homemade sausage,
A little bitterness and sadness mixed together.
The house remains simple, with little change.
A lifetime of labor, yet nothing to show for it.
With no teeth, he still smiles.
People are more valuable than silver or gold.
The war was like a village fire,
Our people wore mourning headbands.
The fields, though dry, still provide.
Men plow, women sow, and the buffaloes toil.
The village roads are lined with sparse grass and trees.
Since then, peace has yet to arrive.
But still, my father smiles, despite it all.
Wealth and poverty are fate, so there's no use worrying.
My mother grinds rice, cooks the meals.
The stove smokes, with rice and straw burning.
The house next door grinds rice in a noisy mill.
The familiar sound of the mortar and pestle still echoes.
My younger siblings take their hoes to the fields,
Urging each other to work hard, step by step.
Sweat pours down, mingling with blood and tears.
But still, there's nothing to show for it.
With no teeth, my father smiles.
Life is what it is, there's no need for sorrow.
Father and I have been apart for so long.
We only get to share a drink once every few years.
My heart tightens, my face wrinkles,
Yet father, with no teeth, smiles cheerfully.
I dream of the skies,
While father continues to toil on the land, a task never finished.
3.7 Quê Hương - Tác giả: Giang Nam
In my childhood, I went to school twice a day.
I loved my homeland through the small pages of my books.
'Who said herding buffalo is hard?'
I dreamt while hearing birds singing high above.
There were days when I skipped school,
Chasing butterflies by the pond.
When my mother caught me...
Before she even raised the stick, I was already crying!
There was a little girl next door,
She giggled at me...
The revolution broke out,
And the long resistance began.
My homeland was filled with the shadow of the enemy.
I said goodbye to my mother and left.
The little girl next door, who would have guessed,
Also joined the guerrillas.
When I met her, she was still giggling,
Her round black eyes, so full of tenderness.
During the march, we couldn't speak a word,
Our unit passed by, but I looked back.
The sky was filled with rain, but my heart felt warm.
After the war, I returned home,
To the old school, the sugarcane fields, and the plowed land.
I met her again,
Shy, hiding behind a door.
She still giggled when I quietly asked,
'What about your husband and children, my dear?'
I held her small hand, deeply moved.
She let it rest in my warm palm.
Then today, I received the news about her.
I couldn't believe it, though it was true.
The enemy shot her and discarded her body,
Simply because she was a guerrilla, my dear!
The pain tore through me, I felt half of me die!
In the past, I loved my homeland for the birds and butterflies,
For the days of skipping school and getting beaten.
Now I love my homeland because in every handful of earth,
There's a piece of her bones and flesh.
3.8 Homeland - Author: Tế Hanh
My village used to make a living by fishing
The water surrounded us, half a day’s journey from the sea
When the sky was clear and the breeze gentle at dawn
The young men rowed their boats out to catch fish
The boat moved swiftly like a spirited horse
The paddles struck strong and swiftly across the river
The large boat, as vast as the village's soul
Leaped forward, gathering the wind in its embrace.
The next day, the docks were bustling with activity
Villagers crowded around to welcome the boats home
By the grace of heaven, the sea was calm, and the boats were full
The fish, fresh and silvery, piled high
The fishermen’s skin bronzed by the sun
Their breath carrying the scent of distant waters
The boat rested in the harbor, weary from the journey
The salt began to seep into its wooden frame.
Now, far away, my heart still longs for it
The green waters, the silver fish, the white sails
A glimpse of the boat cutting through the waves, setting sail
I miss that salty smell so much.
3.9 Returning to the Homeland - Author: Lê Anh Xuân
Oh, my homeland, lush with the shade of coconut trees
Who would have thought that today, I would return
My homeland, everything still remains as it was
Even though loved ones have fallen on this land.
I meet again the faces of those I love so much
I look at myself, gaze deeply, and fall in love
I tremble, clutching those hands tightly
All my feelings are gathered in my hands, burning with warmth.
Here is the old road
The one I used to walk along in my dreams
The creaking sound of someone’s hammock in the noon
Oh, how it makes me miss it dearly.
Oh, the white flowers, the pink flowers
Just like your heart, pure and faithful
Like your heart, beautiful with a deep red hue
The small river where we bathed in childhood
It still runs here, its waters unchanged
The purple water hyacinths line the riverbank.
Mother, with her bent back and silver hair
Sadly tells me the stories
Of the eight children who died from the napalm bomb
On their way home from school.
The enemy killed ten people in one village
Relatives carried the bodies and piled them onto boats
Transporting them to Ben Tre to fight the enemy
Our village has been bombed many times, shattered to pieces
The coconuts scattered all around, the bamboo groves broken,
Mother built a temporary shelter to shield from the rain and wind.
Little did I know that under that shelter of mother’s
The fire still lingered beneath the soil
My mother worked tirelessly day and night
To raise us in the secret underground hideouts
Her entire life was filled with sacrifice and bravery
Twenty years of defending the land, defending the village
Oh, my mother, the mother of the South.
I never knew, it was you, my dear sister
Under that shelter, you grew up
You were so beautiful, like the spring waking up
The rifle on your shoulder was as beautiful as you
How is it that your hair smells so sweet?
Or did you just walk through the durian garden?
I love the sound of your laughter, so pure and clear
Sweet as the coconut water
I love the sight of you walking across the rickety bamboo bridge
Graceful, like a fairy princess
You are a guerrilla, you are a messenger
You are the true spirit of our homeland.
Eleven years have passed, yet I still remember and miss it
The first night I slept in my homeland
My heart felt strangely warm
Though the rain poured heavily outside
The sound of cannons echoed, shaking the walls of the hut.
Oh, how beautiful my homeland is!
Though there are still bomb craters on the roads
Though your clothes still have patches
Only the loyal and steadfast heart remains
And the gun in my hand, burning with fiery hatred.
3.10 My Childhood Homeland - Author: Bình Minh
I was born in a coastal village
The land of Hai Phong, with its brown sails drifting in the wind
The sea of my homeland is both beautiful and rich
The sunset arrives with a deep purple hue
Time flows, and we regret the moments that passed
Beside the school where I learned to write in the past
In May, the red phoenix flowers swayed in the breeze
I still remember the afternoons when we bathed in the rain in the small village
There were days when the sun hadn’t yet kissed the grass
Together with friends, we’d fly kites in the breeze
So many years have passed, but the nostalgia still lingers
Searching for the passionate memories of those days
Time flows like a river
Gone forever, who can ever find it again?
Oh, my old homeland, so full of deep love and meaning
The childhood I once cherished so dearly...
3.11 Remembering the Rain of My Homeland - Author: Lê Anh Xuân
Oh, my homeland
Years have passed since we were apart
Tonight, I lie here listening to the rain fall
Hearing the distant rumble of thunder...
Why does my heart feel so full of longing?
Oh, the rain of my homeland
It once lulled me to sleep as a child,
It soaked my heart with the love that blossomed in youth.
Hearing the rain fall on banana leaves, coconut fronds,
I saw the sun rise when the rain stopped.
I love it just like the first time I learned to love
I love the rain like I love something close to me
Like bamboo, coconut, and the villages of my homeland.
Like the people—how much love they gave.
Oh, my childhood, I bathed in the rain, I played.
I splashed happily on the water’s surface
Diving deep, hearing the thunder echo far away
Listening to the rain, the warm and clear sound.
Oh, where have those childhood games gone?
Those banana leaves and coconut fronds, the tiny huts
The first footsteps of childhood on the ground
The palm leaves that became our little boats
The rain has swept them away.
The rain flows down the river of my homeland
The waves of my homeland roll and flow towards the sea,
Carrying memories of the past, sinking into the vast sky.
And I grew up with love, as vast as the sea
The little rain of my homeland still lives in me
Now it stirs my heart, making a hundred rivers ripple,
Oh, the rain of my homeland.
The rain is the melody of a gentle song.
On nights when I lie and listen to the rain singing, oh, rain
Listening to the rain tapping on the bamboo branches, the rain falling on the leaves,
Whispering softly, cascading far away...
Sometimes, suddenly, a violent storm
The rain pours down like a waterfall, rushing in every direction.
In those dreams, there was lightning, thunder,
Pages of school history suddenly turned into a thunderstorm.
It sounded like the voice of our ancestors building the nation,
Passing down the legacy that we must walk with our heads held high
It felt like the words of the trees, the grass, and the wind.
They kept singing the ancient song of indomitable spirit...
The rain stops, like a light spring breeze
You see the green shining on the branches, with sunlight shining through
The rain, oh, the rain, it cleanses the young branches
Bringing spring, with fresh, sweet fruits.
Oh, how joyful it is, I can't see the birds
But the bamboo groves hum with a fresh voice.
Someone is pounding rice in the distance,
The rain on the branches trembles, making the leaves dance.
The girls across the river are washing clothes
Hands shaking water. Suddenly, the gentle rain begins
Their hands or the soft breeze gently sway
The bamboo branches shaking, a small rain falling...
Oh, how I love the coconut trees at the gate
The brown roots, soft and smooth like fibers
The road is dry, the earth has turned green
I've loved it all along, but now I love it even more...
Oh, my homeland, years have passed
Tonight, I lie here listening to the rain fall,
Hearing the distant rumble of thunder...
Why does my heart ache so?
I long to return to my homeland
I want to return to my childhood
I want to lie on the soil of my ancestors
Listening to the rain tapping on the bamboo, the rain falling on the leaves...
Oh, the thunder from afar, suddenly roaring loudly...
3.12 The Homeland from the Sea - Author: Nguyễn Việt Chiến
If the homeland is storming from the sea
There is a piece of flesh and blood in the Paracels
A thousand years ago, I followed my father to the sea
Mother went to the forest, always remembering the Spratlys
The land of the homeland, when the enemy’s shadow looms
The children lie awake by the Truong Son mountains
The sea of the homeland has never been calm
The sea is as laborious as mother’s worn-out shirt
If the homeland today is viewed from the sea
Mother Au Co must surely be restless
The waves are piling over the continental shelf
Is there a wave within the soul of the people?
If the homeland is viewed from the islands
The father of Lac Long hasn’t yet returned
The father’s words were to keep every inch of land
This blood and bone, the descendants still remember
At night, the storms and lightning strike the seas
We mourn Ly Son, the island hidden in the clouds
We grieve Con Co, resting on the wild waves
We pity Hon Me, in the stormy gloom
If the homeland is seen from the scars
The pain of battles is now past
How many mountain shapes still bear the image of a widow
The weeping, still soothing the child, rocking the cradle
If the homeland is seen from the many dangers
Ten times the enemy has arrived from the South China Sea
Those waves became the final charge at Bach Dang
The Thoat Hoan retreating, terrified by the sound of the drum
We mourn the nation, with more than three thousand islands
For a thousand years, the enemy's shadow still lingers
Blood was spilled at Spratlys back then
My friend lies beneath the salty waves
If the homeland is anchored at the tip of the waves
The young men on the islands have forgotten themselves
One flag, from the Paracels, still waves
Passed on through generations, the descendants forever remember
If the homeland is viewed from all the losses
This blood and bone will endure for a thousand generations
The spirit of the people will never be defeated
The shape of the ship will always head towards the sea.
3.13 I Love My Homeland So Much - Author: Triệu Phú Tình
I love you so much, I love my homeland dearly
The vast fields spread like a wide carpet
The purple water lilies float gently on the river
The smoke from the kitchen rises, carrying the fragrant smell of straw and rice husks
Each little hut has a thatched roof
At night, we sit and cast nets to catch fish and shrimp
Looking afar, we see a few people with waist-tied baskets
Searching for frogs along the path by the rice fields
Suddenly, I remember the smell of fermented fish, the aroma of dragonfly sauce
Dipping cucumber, eggplant, or water spinach, so delicious
The children from the neighboring house laugh joyously
Reminding me of my own childhood when I used to run around like them
In the evening, we gather at the edge of the village to sit and tell stories
Stories about school, the groom and the bride
Occasionally, someone adds a comment
With a voice full of humor that makes us laugh out loud
There were days when we played hide-and-seek
One of us forgot and fell asleep in the pile of straw
Another was hungry and ran home to eat rice
They came back the next day, telling a lie about it
I must admit that I truly feel guilty
For the village, for our ancestors
Because it has been so long since I visited my homeland
I ask for forgiveness, truly hoping to be forgiven
3.14 Homeland - Author: Phú Sĩ
My homeland is filled with boundless love
Each child, though far away, still longs to return
Still waiting for the thatched roofs of home
Where the image of mother remains, filled with deep affection and longing
My homeland carries a song of debt
A vow made when we left the shores of love
No matter how distant, how many miles apart
The heart remains devoted to the old familiar face
My homeland is filled with the lives of many struggles
The smoke of evening fires envelops and comforts us
The salty sweat we shed fuels our desire
The happiness that rises within this land
My homeland has remained unchanged through the ages
With open arms protecting our innocent steps
Now, returning, my hair has turned grey
But still, the deep yearning for memories persists
My homeland blooms with deep gratitude and love
Oh my dear companion, though the years have passed
One day of return, the love will forever be a sweet verse
The words of mother’s home, the warmth of heartfelt strings
3.15 Love of Homeland - Author: Hà Thu
I return to search for my childhood
Searching in the lullaby of 'ầu ơ ví dầu'
Returning to the rice fields, mulberry gardens
The river, the waterway, the bridge, and the banyan tree
I return to find yesterday
The innocence, the dreams, the playful days
Where has that childhood gone?
So many memories rush back to me
Nowhere is as beautiful as my homeland
The cottage with its thatched roof shelters us from poverty
Yet love and kindness overflow
Providing care, protection, and sharing the hardship
The bustling city outside
Is noisy and far from the warmth of family bonds
Traveling back and forth in the dust of life
Half a life weighed down by the burden of daily survival
Returning to my homeland brings me joy
The love and friendship of youth still alive
I return to find the smile
That had been lost in the hustle of life
I return to seek familiar faces
Old schoolmates with books and lanterns in hand
Friends from my youthful days
To relive the memories of those bygone times
My heart aches with longing for home
To hear the sweet lullabies once again
The homeland with its sweet starfruit by the hills
The homeland shaped by the figure of my mother waiting
3.16 The River of My Homeland - Author: Nguyễn Ngọc Giang
Returning to the river of my homeland
A time of youth
The river, gentle and kind
Like the nurturing warmth of a mother's milk
After eight years in the busy city
Now I find myself again
Surrounded by the beauty of my homeland
So tranquil and full of charm
The clear blue river
Refreshes the soul
As the evening falls
The sunset paints the sky
I suddenly realize my wrong
With the old river
After so many years apart
The river still forgives me
The current of life remains the same
Flowing both ways, sometimes clear, sometimes murky
The river, however, stays constant
Always loyal and true
3.17 The Shadow of Home - Author: Yêu Thoáng Qua
Nurturing life
With dreams in our hearts
Embracing hopes
From then until now
Leaving the motherland
The longing runs deep
Hold on, let's be strong
Don't dwell in sorrow
When I return
Happiness fills the air
No more pain
No more loneliness in this place
Countless evenings lost in thought
Watching the shadows of home
Feeling sorrow for fate
As the days pass by.
3.18 Tràng Giang - Author: Huy Cận
The waves ripple across the river, sorrowful and endless,
The boat drifts, its sails parallel to the flowing water.
The boat returns to the shore, sadness splits in all directions;
A single dry branch of wood drifts away among the currents.
A small island emerges faintly, the wind blowing gently,
The distant sounds of a village, the evening market closing.
The sun sets, the sky rises to its peak;
The river stretches, the sky vast, an isolated quay.
The drifting water plants, lined up in rows;
The endless horizon, no ferry crossing in sight.
No bridge to evoke any sense of closeness,
Silently, the green shore meets the golden sand.
Layers of clouds rise over the silver mountains,
The birds tilt their small wings: the evening shadows fall.
The heart of the homeland stirs, longing for the river's flow,
Without the smoke of dusk, the yearning for home still lingers.
3.19 Back to the Homeland - Author: Toàn Tâm Hòa
I return with my back against the slanted evening
Letting my soul float with the strange peace.
Years of wandering the roads far and wide,
Now I return to gather all the love that fills my heart.
The green fields stretch endlessly, the storks flying high,
The river of the homeland still thick with silt.
The kite flutes its song, soaring through the air,
Endless melodies fill the air, enchanting and deep.
I sit and gaze at the sunset,
And my heart feels restless, filled with unease.
The sweet scent of the meadow, the breeze,
And someone's smoke from the kitchen drifting into the dreamlike evening.
I return to find the lullaby,
The folk songs of my mother, from days long past.
My steps are full of anticipation,
Counting the memories of distant times that return.
I return, leaning against the banks of home,
Lost in the embrace of cherished moments.
My mother's hunched back, swaying gently,
Leaning into the fading light of the evening.
I return to the thatched house,
Where memories swirl around me like a gentle breeze.
The warmth of a family meal,
Resting in my mother's arms, silently watching, with tears in my eyes.
The simple, humble countryside scene
But so deeply familiar and dear to life.
In the summer afternoon, the lullaby echoes,
Filling my heart with warmth from my mother's song.
As evening falls, the flute's melody drifts,
Spreading the peacefulness of the vast sky and earth.
The people of the village are sincere and kind,
Together they support one another through hunger and abundance.
The fields grow weary beneath the wing of the stork,
Yet they yield fragrant rice to feed the people.
The villagers shine with bright smiles,
Bound by love and mutual care, hearts full of goodness.
The countryside is full of tireless labor,
But it gives us the food that nurtures us.
The people, radiant with joy and kindness,
Offer love and support, united in true compassion.
Inherent in nature is great diligence,
With tireless work, despite the many trials.
Together we build our homeland,
To make life more beautiful for all.
The countryside is a brilliant shade of green,
Closely bonded with the lives of its people.
Simple yet full of passion,
It is the place we always return to, dear.
3.21 Nostalgia for My Homeland - Author: Quốc Phương
No matter where I go, I always long for home,
The village yard, the well, the banyan tree by the temple.
The lively market full of trade,
The village roads bustling from dawn to dusk.
In the evening, the soft sunlight stretches across the dike,
Children with their usual ways, herding cows.
Flying kites, playing games for a long time,
Inviting each other to bathe beneath the irrigation bridge.
At the village's edge, the fields stretch wide,
The lush green rice plants growing strong and healthy.
The village pond is lively with chatter,
As young women carry water, passing by.
The longing for home fills my mind,
Due to life's hardships, I had to leave my village.
But now, things are easier,
We plan to return every year together.
3.22 I Love My Homeland - Author: Hoàng Thanh Tâm
I love each ray of curved sunlight,
The watercolor painting of the river and the small boat.
I love the soaring wings of the stork,
The golden fields during harvest season, gently drifting.
I love the smoke from the kitchen drifting in the air,
The gray color of the thatched roof beneath the high sky.
I love the dreams in every color,
The rainbow appearing after a passing shower.
I love the lullaby song,
The sweat of my parents, warm and enduring from dawn to dusk.
I love the rocking cradle,
The kite filled with wind, not yet ready to return.
The herd of cows walks slowly along the dike,
The leaves whisper in the wind, echoing through the reeds.
The moon rises, dotted with stars,
As the river breeze carries the scent of nature's harvest.
I walk to the farthest lands, through the regions,
My love for my homeland and the land that is intertwined with every step I take.
3.23 The River of My Homeland - Author: Pham Dinh Nhan
I’ve traveled all roads far and wide,
Through countless days and memories of home.
I’ve journeyed thousands of miles,
Longing for the rivers, the mountains, and the beloved home.
I’ve walked and will forever remember the river,
The shimmering water, calm and pure.
So many memories of us together,
By the riverbank, as the evening shadows fall.
I remember the fleeting sight of a sail,
On the river like a butterfly fluttering in pink hues.
I remember the clumps of bending bamboo,
On the small dike, hoping for someone to return.
I remember the graceful maiden from the countryside,
Washing her feet by the riverbank, her hair cascading down.
I recall the sweet melody of her song,
On the river, mingling with the laughter of our village.
I traveled far, yet my heart longs for home,
For the small, tranquil river that gently flows by.
3.24 There’s No Place Like Home - Author: Thanh Binh
There’s no place like home,
Where the storks fly in a straight line, and smoke lingers in the morning and evening.
The kite soars freely in the wind,
The village path is lively, carefree, and fulfilling.
The river flows gently back and forth,
On the other side, a carpet of green rice fields stretches out.
The sky is clear, the air is fresh,
A few old trees stretch their young branches into the sky.
The morning dew still lingers,
On the grass buds, with wide eyes, looking around.
The birds call to one another, singing their cheerful songs,
While children scamper around, playing joyfully.
In the distance, the temple’s roof peeks through,
Hidden behind trees, its fragrance fills the air all year round.
It remains simple, yet deeply cherished,
Imprinted in our memories: our homeland, rich and deep.
3.25 Homeland - Author: Nguyễn Đình Huân
Homeland is the sound of cicadas,
The lullaby of my mother on a summer afternoon.
The little river, ebbing and flowing,
Homeland is a corner of the sky from my childhood.
Homeland back then felt like a dream,
I was the innocent, adorable boy.
Homeland is the sound of the kite's flute,
And the white storks flying in the evening by the dike.
Homeland is the village market,
Where I wait for mother to bring back rice cakes.
Homeland is the rooster's crow,
The morning greeting that resonates through the village.
Homeland is the golden fields,
The scent of ripened rice filling the evening sky.
Homeland is my beloved mother's figure,
Her brown dress and conical hat swaying as she walks home.
Thinking of homeland brings strong emotions,
Anyone who has left it longs to return to their roots.
Homeland is the rainy days,
Homeland is the rows of coconut trees along the canal.
Homeland carries deep emotions and affection,
My homeland is beautiful, it is truly amazing.
Our homeland is the place
Where we were born, remember it forever.
On Mytour, we have shared with you some of the most beautiful poems about homeland and Vietnam, as well as short poems about the homeland and country of Vietnam, especially for children. We hope that after enjoying these beautiful poems about the homeland and Vietnam, you will feel an even deeper love for your homeland and truly appreciate the unique beauty that only Vietnam offers. Thank you for your interest and for following this article.
