Top 10 Beautiful Essays About Sunsets

The last days of October, marking the end of Hanoi's autumn, bring with them a sudden cool breeze that makes one wonder if winter has arrived early. But no, winter is like a charming figure, even though it hasn't arrived yet, its mere promise fills the air with a kind of anticipation, making everything feel unexpectedly heavy, while you wait and hope, only to be left out of breath. Such is the complexity of the changing seasons...

I just returned from a sun-soaked land, Saigon. Yet, even in this season, Saigon isn't the blistering heat it is during the summer. The sunlight here is gentler, carrying a breeze from the river, carefree and expansive, so much so that anyone trying to bottle up their emotions finds themselves swept away by the wind, scattering their thoughts across the streets, even into the long, deep alleys. Sometimes, a sudden downpour falls and just as quickly stops, leaving a wanderer like me bewildered, momentarily caught in a time warp, only to realize that Saigon has already become bustling and chaotic, with its usual smog and traffic jams...

People from Hanoi who come to Saigon to live and work often miss their hometown, especially the winter chill. But if you ask them to return to Hanoi as it was in the past, most would shake their heads. Saigon is like that—unlike the ancient, soulful allure of Hanoi, filled with history and culture, Saigon is bold, open-hearted, like a wandering knight. It's because of this boldness that Saigon 'binds' people, and no one ever comes to Saigon thinking they will fall in love with it. They come for work, for business, but eventually, without realizing it, they find themselves missing it when they have to leave...

Have you ever missed someone even when they're right in front of you or sitting beside you? That’s how I feel about Saigon, always. In my youth, Saigon first appeared like a 'third party,' intruding between my best friend and me. I was annoyed, silently resenting it, wondering how it could so easily integrate into Saigon, forgetting about Hanoi, how it could worry about work before even returning home, how it could share stories with such enthusiasm, its voice now tinged with a touch of 'charm,' making Saigon seem anything but charming. At that time, I thought I would never love Saigon the way I loved Hanoi...

But eventually, I truly set foot in Saigon, unexpectedly, like the plot of a romance novel. I came to Saigon to say goodbye to my first love. Strangely, after all these years, I can't recall what was said that night as we drove around, but I can still remember the streetlights, the trees... It felt as though each street in Saigon was quietly listening to me, comforting me, offering a warm embrace. And it was only later that I realized, I wasn't as 'loyal' as I thought. From that moment, I had forgotten the person beside me and found myself moved by a new love—Saigon.

Work continues to bring me to this city, not frequently or for long, just enough to keep the memory alive, not letting it fade into forgetfulness. The last time was about two years ago, when my best friend had moved to England, and the time before that was over a year ago, when she was still in Saigon. Now, she’s in the West, and I’m busy with work and conferences. But one day, as I lay in a small salon chair beside a hotel, gazing at the old attic and hearing the faint sound of a song from a crackling radio, I missed the Saigon of the past, deeply. I missed the Saigon of the year I ran away to 'escape the flood' while my mother called to say our house, despite being elevated, was flooded. I missed the year when my best friend and I had cocktails at the bar on the highest floor of a skyscraper. I missed the year we took a taxi far out of the city just to have snails at a place she knew. I missed the year when we, three friends, ate pancakes before I stayed over at her house, and we talked late into the night. I missed the year when, now married, my husband went on business to Saigon, I had a meeting in Hue, and after the meeting, I flew back to Saigon to visit...

'Do you want me to change the music? I’m afraid you might think it’s too sad, but I really like it,' the owner of the salon asked gently, her voice sweet as she massaged my hair. I waved my hand and said, 'No, it's fine. I like it too.' The music coming from the radio was old bolero songs—some familiar, some new to me. Bolero is a type of music that really resonates with you only when you're in the right mood and... weather, but for some reason, today, it touches my heart deeply.

'On some evening, when we part ways as the shadows grow long, the sunset brings a purple hue to our souls. I wish time could stop, that the moment of separation could last forever, before we say goodbye, wishing the train wouldn’t leave…'

In truth, I don’t want to find anything back. Life is a flowing river, tranquility is found on its banks. Just like cities and people, everything changes over time. The only unchanging truth is that the past is gone, never to return, and we should not cling to regrets. That’s all we need to know...

Goodbye, Saigon, and see you again. I suddenly remember a few seniors from the Department of Construction, whom I randomly met at a conference. As we were saying goodbye, one of them asked, 'When will we meet again?' And another replied, 'Probably at the next conference in Saigon.' All of us are from Hanoi, living in Hanoi, but we plan to meet again in... Saigon. It sounds strange, but it’s so true. As I said, Saigon 'binds' people, it’s dangerous, really. I must return to Hanoi right away.'

'The train rolls smoothly as evening descends, the autumn rain falls softly, the sunset slowly fades, and who remains still in the misty evening…'

Song Kiếm Ngư

The last streaks of sunlight rush back to the sun as the day fades. At that moment, in that very setting, the sun once more gathers its strength, clings tightly, and spills out in rich golden hues, transforming into the soft embrace of the sunset. The evening mingles with the colors of the sky. The evening intertwines with the hues of the day. And there, the evening casts the shadow of my mother. As she walks, the evening remains calm. When she smiles, the evening stretches on. The evening becomes graceful and vast, glowing with a golden warmth. I quietly send my thoughts to my mother. The evening accepts my request with a gentle nod.

When I was a child, I would jump with joy as soon as I heard the sound of my mother’s bicycle approaching in the late afternoon, the familiar creaking of the pedals and her shadow appearing from afar. My polka-dot dress would be covered in grass stains from sitting and standing around in the fields. My mother, tired from a day of errands and work, would return home, weary from the endless cycle of daily tasks. Yet, I clung to her, as the evening was the only time I could be close to her for long stretches. Her worn-out hat would be in her hands, with some of its threads coming loose. The straps, once soft, had now stiffened from constant use. My mother would hurry home, caring little about the dirt from the bicycle or the wear on her clothes. She simply had to get to the market.

I never asked my mother if she was tired. Sometimes, she would snap at us, and I sensed it was because of her exhaustion. I loved her, but it was a love I couldn’t express fully as a child—naive, fleeting at times, and not always understood. There were times I longed for a doll with curly hair, round eyes, and a frilly dress, just like the one my neighbor showed me. I would beg my mother for it, and she would tell me to wait a little longer. Finally, I held that doll in my arms, overwhelmed with happiness. I had no idea how much my mother had to sacrifice to make that happen. But I could tell she was happy, too, watching me smile with the gift in my arms. Days passed, and with each evening, the golden light merged with my mother's shadow.

People often say that sunset is the last struggle of the sun before night falls. Everything slows down, becoming quiet, vast, and still. The moment carries a unique feeling—hard to describe, but deeply moving. This feeling isn’t rushed or delayed; it weaves its way into the heart, gradually filling every corner of the soul. The evening brings joy, it brings sorrow, it sighs with longing, and it holds so many more emotions. Oh, how deep and vast the evening is! It embraces everything, without rejecting or letting anything escape. The evening nurtures the souls seeking refuge in its quiet embrace. I love the endless evening, my heart melting with the golden glow of the sunset. The beauty of the sunset is such that I wish time wouldn’t hurry to fade, and darkness wouldn’t hide in the corners. Because my mother hasn’t returned yet. I am still waiting for her.

If the sunset is the last effort of the sun to shine as the day ends, then in this moment, my mother is striving just as hard to finish her work and return to my father and me. At that moment, my mother blends into the evening. I see the evening becoming calm, the golden light softening, and the air is gentle. The evening breeze soothes the warmth of her sighs and dries the sweat still clinging to her face and back.

'The stork carries the sunlight, carries the rain, my mother carries all four seasons of wind and storms.'

Indeed, the evening is full of generosity, sharing the burdens of life and lifting my mother through the late hours of the day with strength. It’s not the harsh sun, nor the thick clouds. The path and the grass seem to stretch out with each step my mother takes. Surely, she would be less tired returning to the calm of the evening. And surely, my eyes would light up, a smile on my lips as I race to catch up with her, pedaling quickly to the gate. I turn around to smile at her. The evening watches us with a loving gaze. The sweetness and stillness of the moment. So the evening has brought my mother home safely and peacefully. The evening has heard my wish and kept it. I am grateful for the evening. But how do I thank it when my heart is full of longing?

The sun has set, leaving behind the doubts in my heart. Tomorrow, and the days after, the cycle continues. I grow small yet large, as time passes. My mother walks beside the evening, bringing back the nourishment of life. The evening is brief yet vast, endless. My mother’s love, quiet and immense, fills me.

'A mother’s love is like a full bowl of water, how can I ever repay it when I’ve grown?' ...

Let me send my mother every evening. The evening will always be kind and constant.

Mộc Nhiên (Nguyễn Thanh Xuân)

The evening arrives, with the sunlight trailing behind, and as I watch the sunset, I’m suddenly filled with longing and memories of my homeland.

Years ago, on the fields where the sunset painted the roads red, I dreamed of growing up and traveling far and wide, exploring new lands. My heart was filled with excitement. I imagined a distant place where no one could stop me, no one could interfere with my life, where I could freely shape my destiny.

So I packed my bags and left home one lonely evening, spending four years buried in my books in a bustling, vibrant city. I thought that this new horizon would be enough to erase the peaceful memories of my childhood. But there were times when my legs grew weary, and I felt like this dynamic city couldn’t accommodate someone like me, so simple and unrefined. I would ride my bike to the beach, sit on the sand, and watch the sun quietly sink into the calm sea. I let the wind carry my sadness, sending my frustration to the waves, while I stepped on the weak sunlight lingering on the shore, returning to reality.

After graduation, I eagerly strapped my backpack on and went in search of new horizons. I arrived in a foreign land, filled with excitement, dreams, and visions of a fresh life full of vibrant spring colors. But time passed quietly, and I came to realize that no matter where life took me, I would still face pain and loss, and I would always bear the weight of the struggles of daily life.

One evening, as I heard the crickets chirping by the house, I longed for the carefree days of my childhood—walking alone along the country road, watching the smoky haze rise over the river at dusk, breathing in the scent of rice in the air, and feeling happy knowing that my mother was waiting at home with a simple but loving evening meal.

Suddenly, I realized that nothing could compare to the beauty of a sunset in my hometown. I remembered two lines of poetry by Tô Hiệu:

"The homeland fades into the sunset,
On the river, smoke rises, making the heart heavy."

Thắm Nguyễn

The sunset has a captivating and majestic allure. The soft afternoon rays lazily descend. The sky is a canvas of vibrant reds, oranges, and sometimes a magical purple or deep, serene blue.

If you have had the privilege of watching a sunset over a wide, wind-swept field, you’ll realize that nature is the true artist, and the human effort to match its magnificence is still far behind.

On these endless fields, you can look up to the sky and feel the vastness of the universe. The sunset in the countryside is awe-inspiring and beautifully unmatched, unlike the narrow sky of the city, crowded with cars and smog.

It’s the same sun and the same clouds. While the sunrise is gentle and reserved, the sunset is bold and radiant beyond words. The last rays of the day touch the veil of soft clouds, creating magnificent shapes: palaces, towers, golden hues stretching across the sky. Everything seems to glow like it’s perched on a grand lamp—the sun itself illuminating the heavens. Sometimes, the entire sky is bathed in golden light.

Watching the sunset often stirs emotions that are hard to express. There’s the bittersweet feeling of an ending or the appreciation for a masterpiece that will soon vanish. The sunset fades quickly, especially on cold winter days. The last rays of the sun seem like its final gift to the world, a colorful performance designed to lift the spirit and brighten the gloomy winter afternoons.

Few people remember exactly when the sunset happens. It’s that moment at the end of the day when you catch the first glimmer of the sun’s fading light. And in that instant, the magnificent scene is revealed before your eyes.

The clouds near the sun, often illuminated by its rays, form shapes of their own. They have likely been hidden in the vast, deep blue sky all day, only to emerge as the sunlight paints them in brilliant gold. Suddenly, the clouds stand out against the clear, jade-blue sky. Some days, they take the shape of a long, curved beach; other days, a palace fit for royalty; or sometimes, a giant paper fan. On rare occasions, they embody the profound beauty of mysterious mountain landscapes.

So many forms, so many colors. The word “radiant” seems insufficient to describe it. The beauty is so mysterious, so elegant, and it leaves you wondering: How many people in this world truly get to witness such a spectacle?

Perhaps you, too, will enjoy these peaceful sunsets. Watching the fading light as it streams through a small window, while you leisurely prepare dinner. You ask for nothing more and expect nothing in return. You simply do what needs to be done, calmly and without haste. There’s no need for the chaos of the world, nor the fleeting distractions that come and go.

Life is neither too long nor too short. It’s a journey, and once you board the train of time, you cannot look back. Each passing day means one less day to live. Don’t rush to chase after everything. There’s no need to make endless lists or plans. If something feels important, go ahead and do it. Ultimately, it’s the right choice. But if it doesn’t feel necessary, then the judgments of others are just like wind passing over a bridge.

Don’t live someone else’s life. Live your own. It’s not about ignoring the world, but rather, not letting the world have too much influence over you.

Chay Mộc

The evening settles in...

The sunset stretches long, casting shadows along the leaning trees. A subtle feeling of nostalgia, something distant, begins to stir within me.

Alone, I walk down the quiet path, counting each step as the last rays of the day gently fall around me. It feels as though my feet are blossoming with flowers, the road itself covered in blossoms, each one blooming fiercely. The familiar path is lined with delicate pink bougainvillea, their petals gently fluttering in the soft breeze that carries the scent of the river, tender and soothing, caressing the soul. My face, free from the weight of thoughts, reflects the quiet passage of September, though the sunset seems to linger with a feeling of wistfulness, reluctant to let go.

I walk quietly down the autumn path, lost in a flood of memories and emotions. I breathe in the peace of the rural landscape, a place of tranquil beauty, where my roots are anchored, where childhood memories are buried deep. The image of my family, the comforting faces of relatives and neighbors, have followed me through the journey of life. I remember the long summer afternoons, swinging on the hammock, lulled into sleep by my mother’s gentle lullabies. My dreams, carried away by the smoke of my father’s pipe, were interrupted by the clucking of chickens in the hot midday sun. These moments are now memories etched deeply in my heart, reminding me of the hard, nurturing life that my parents gave me, guiding me into maturity.

And time, ever flowing, runs alongside the storms and sunshine, like fading paint or fallen leaves, like the soft color of the earth after the rain. The quiet road of autumn is tinged with the last rays of sunset, a cool breeze dancing lightly through the air. The breeze is gentle, almost weightless, like love given freely without expectation... It’s a feeling of quiet sadness at the changing seasons, but it also brings a deep sense of peace...

As time passes silently, memories run alongside me, stretching through the years. Half a lifetime has passed, and the youthful hair has faded, touched by the winds of time, as I walk once more in the long shadows of the sunset. I ask myself, what have I carried from the past? The road splits in so many directions... Why is the path never a straight line?

The late afternoon sun kisses the rooftops, and emotions fall with the fading light. The sunset lingers over the fields, the herons guiding the winds through the quiet dusk. The smoke of burning straw mixes with the familiar scent of the countryside. Perhaps only I walk this fading path, where memories and emotions stir quietly in my heart. I long for the embrace of warmth, for the smile that is not an illusion. I long to be lost in a passion that leads to paths unknown, to love that is tender and overflowing amidst the crisp autumn air... My hands stretch out to catch the falling leaves, only to be overwhelmed by a wave of longing, a deep yearning for the days long gone.

Walking down this fragrant, flower-scented road, I hear the rustling of the tree branches in the wind, the soft hum of the distant kite soaring high, the whispered words of hands that hold each other... I glance upward, lost in the movement of the leaves, and feel the emptiness that only memories can bring. The feeling of a soul wandering back to the fleeting joys of days that will never return.

Nguyễn Thị Xuân Hương

The soft, golden rays of the afternoon sun gently settle across the village fields. The light sparkles, soothing and warm. To the west, far on the horizon, the sun gleams in brilliant red, as if silently bidding farewell after a day of sharing its light with the world. Far away, kites flutter, their distant sounds blending with the vast summer sky...

As evening falls, the village homes stir, alive with the end of a long day’s labor. Families gather, sharing stories of the past and present. The smoke from evening fires rises, blending with the scent of freshly harvested rice, still warm from the sun. A gentle breeze carries the aroma of rice up with the smoke, swirling into the infinite sky. In the air, the soft sound of a flute can be heard, while the buffaloes head toward their barns, and the playful white herons stand on their backs, watching the herders laugh and play in the final moments of daylight.

How deeply I love the sky of the countryside, so full of simplicity and warmth. I love the sunset’s rich red hues that paint the world. Anyone born and raised in the countryside, when far from home, will always yearn for the place where they were born. It’s the place where you savor pure white rice from freshly harvested fields, plump fish from the ponds, where the river’s calm waters soothe your spirit. It’s a place where one grows quietly, alongside the rhythm of time that never rushes. Sometimes, just living like this is enough to bring a peaceful and soothing comfort...

Phạm Nguyễn

In the vast, empty space of the evening, Lâm felt as if she had drifted into an endless void. There, she allowed herself to be carried by the clouds, like waves gently sweeping across the ocean.

During such moments of imbalance, Thùy Lâm would often sit alone on the rooftop, watching the sunset as the sun began to disappear behind the buildings across the street. The sunlight at that moment resembled a flickering lamp in the dark of night; though burning brightly, it would soon fade away when the wind arrived.

Watching the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon, Lâm deeply felt the loneliness that often comes with adulthood. When you face life alone in the city, without support, unable to complain to your parents for fear of worrying them, you must remain silent and endure. The sunset—an exquisite moment of nature—seemed tinged with sadness when seen through Lâm's eyes. Could it be that the struggles of unemployment, the constant battle for survival, had clouded the beauty of the moment? Lâm felt like she was drowning in the turbulent waves of life, where just one more wave could pull her under, leaving no trace behind. How could one appreciate beauty when every moment is weighed down by pressure, even something as simple as breathing becomes a struggle?

The sunlight slowly faded from her hands, and the darkness began its invasion of the earth. Watching the crowd rush home after work, Lâm found herself wishing to be part of it. When busy, Lâm felt alive. Like many young people, she longed for a bright future, yet sometimes felt powerless and useless. This was understandable, for during her school years, she hadn't put in as much effort as others, and the results she faced now were the seeds she had sown in those carefree days. If someone asked if she regretted it, Lâm would answer 'yes,' but if given the chance to return to the past, she would say 'no.' Even if a time-traveling device like Doraemon’s existed, she doubted she could persuade her younger self. As a child, she was rebellious and refused to listen to anyone’s advice. Growing older, she was swept away by love and youth, enjoying the freedom and material comforts provided by her parents without a second thought. Now, reflecting back, she regretted how careless she had been. She had seen her mother sigh in frustration, just as she herself now did, but had dismissed it with indifference. Growing up comes with invisible pressures that children cannot understand. As a child, she had longed to grow up, to experience freedom, to live life without being scolded or told what to do. Little did she know, those were the days of greatest carefree bliss.

Watching the sunset from the rooftop had its own charm. It didn't offer the coolness of walking on the beach or the warmth of holding hands with a lover while waiting for a kiss. Lâm’s feelings at that moment were hard to describe—like a young person unprepared for life, someone who had yet to face the hardships of survival far from home. Observing the lives of those around her, Lâm felt a pang of loneliness and reminded herself to try harder, to improve a little more each day. Life sometimes requires moments of silence to reflect on one's journey, the future, and personal relationships—especially for someone like Lâm, who was temporarily lost. As adults, we must move forward, gradually becoming the support for our parents or, at the very least, easing the burden on our families.

Then, the screen of her phone lit up with an incoming call. It was her mother. Lâm hesitated but answered the call, already anticipating the usual questions: “How’s the job search going, dear?” “Has the company called you for an interview yet?” She braced herself for the inevitable disappointment in her mother's voice. Despite it all, she picked up the phone—after all, sometimes you just have to face things, even when you know they won't go smoothly.

In that vast, empty space of the evening, Lâm once again felt as though she were drifting in an infinite sea. There, she surrendered herself to the clouds, floating like the waves on an endless ocean.

A few hours later, the sun had set, its eyes closing into a darkened sky, leaving only the twinkling stars in its wake. Lâm stood up, stretched, and felt a lightness in her shoulders, the weight of days filled with accumulated pressure finally easing. She smiled. When the sunset fades, the dawn will come. She reassured herself softly, “Keep going! Everything is just beginning. It will get better.”

Author: Trần Hàn

When we are far from home, the longing for it grows—one misses everything from the hammock swaying on the breeze of a mother’s love to the familiar kitchen, the old bicycle, and especially those afternoons filled with nostalgia.

Indeed, whenever I return to my hometown, I love watching the sunset. The sunset there is unlike anything I’ve ever seen in the city. It’s strange, isn’t it? I often ask myself, why is the sunset in the countryside so peaceful? All the weariness of a day’s work fades away as I watch the soft golden hues of the sunset, gentle and serene. The most beautiful part of the sunset is when the delicate golden rays linger, and the entire sky seems to be bathed in a stunning amber hue.

I remember when I was young, my friend once asked me, “Do you prefer watching the sunrise or the sunset?” I replied, “I like sunsets! Because to catch the sunrise, you have to wake up early.” But now, as an adult, I still prefer watching the sunset, simply because it feels like the most peaceful, romantic, and beautiful moment of the day.

The sunset in my hometown is truly beautiful. When the sun sets, it’s as if the day goes to sleep, leaving room for the moon and stars to take over. This is the time when a hard day’s work transforms into the tranquility of the night, and the entire countryside is draped in a golden cloak. I love the golden-orange glow of the sunset. I wish I could stop time, so I could savor every moment of those lingering rays and their romantic color.

I still vividly recall the feeling of watching the sunset with my childhood friends. That day, we were gathering rice and picking up duck eggs in the field after the harvest. Just as we were about to leave, the sunset began. So we sat down together to watch it. We, as children, were trying to capture the beauty of the sunset in our hearts. From the West, the rooftops appeared with thin trails of smoke, creating a poetic scene—beautiful and so peaceful. As the sunset slowly descended over the vast, endless fields, the white egrets were rushing home after a long day of foraging. Their soft wings blended with the vibrant sunset, and I was reminded of two lines from the poet Nguyễn Đình Thi:

“Vietnam, our homeland
Endless fields of rice, no sky is more beautiful.”

Nature’s landscape was so stunning, it brought an overwhelming sense of peace and calm. The sunset was when we gathered after a busy day of work, greeted by the calls of farmers or the laughter of children, and the sound of my mother calling us to dinner. Those sounds were so pure and full of love—sounds I will never forget. There were times when I stumbled or felt weary from life’s pressures, and I would wish I were back in my village, watching the sunset over the fields.

We often hear that the sunset is the end, but it is also the beginning of something new. We jokingly call it “Starting from an Ending.” As we watch the sunset, we may feel a sense of regret, but we must cherish those beautiful moments, for they will never come again. Every evening is a unique masterpiece, a special gift from nature.

The sunset in my hometown is simple, yet it holds all the love and beauty that nature has to offer. It’s not just a moment of transition—it embodies my childhood, the memories of a whole sky full of unforgettable moments. The sunset will always be special to me, peaceful and with a beauty that is uniquely its own. It is the cherished memory of my youth, and whenever I think of it, I feel a sense of nostalgia...

Triệu Vy

In every moment that passes in our lives, whether filled with joy or marked by sorrow, whether it's a new opportunity or an unfinished chapter, there's one moment that always weighs heavily on our hearts – the moment of ending.

When something reaches its end, like a journey that must come to a close, like a book, a movie, or a relationship that is nearing its final scene, we can't help but feel a sense of sadness and longing.

We often look back at the moments when everything began, lost in those beautiful memories, in the moments when we thought we were at our happiest, only to face the harsh reality that all of it has come to an end. Every joy, every happiness has its expiration date.

Especially when it comes to the end of a relationship, where things were once so whole, and one can't help but wonder when the cracks started to form and the inevitable breakdown began.

No matter how much our rational minds try to remind us of how things came to this point, how the person we loved no longer shares the same feelings, how we've endured too much pain, our hearts refuse to listen. We cling to the past, justifying our actions with baseless excuses, holding on to everything even when our hands are burning.

Sometimes, we would rather live with the wounds than let go of a relationship we once had high hopes for, a relationship that meant so much to us.

People might continue to live with the cracks in their soul, living through long, lonely nights filled with pain and nightmares, wearing a false mask of happiness, all in an effort to keep holding on to the beautiful memories, or at least the ones they once believed in.

Perhaps in the end, what we truly fear is facing the pain of the end, especially with things we held so dear, things we've sacrificed so much for, things we tried to protect and preserve. What we can't accept is that no matter how hard we try, there are things that simply cannot be saved, and the end will come to us too.

Something that once was so beautiful, that had such a promising beginning, that held so much special potential, that seemed so close to bringing us happiness, fades away, leaving only the emptiness of loss, as fleeting as the sunlight on a windowpane that we can never hold on to, never keep.

Who could accept such a fate, when they have given so much effort, so much hope, and all of their heart?

Who could say, “I’m fine” after losing half of their soul, letting everything slip away with the rain, facing the disappointment and collapse of everything they’ve worked so hard to build?

In “The Little Prince,” Saint Exupéry said, “One only sees clearly with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eyes.” Perhaps for many, the sunset symbolizes a beautiful and peaceful end. It soothes the soul with its red-orange hues, slowly fading into the sky, like a warm candy that leaves its mark.

People love the sunset not only because it gently ends the day and makes way for the night, but also because they wish that their own endings would be as peaceful and calm as this.

But we must understand that we only see the sunset from afar, not knowing that it is a fiery, searing ball of flame. Beneath its calm, there are raging fires, cracks across its surface, and a lonely giant star inside.

The most beautiful things are often built on foundations of intensity and destruction.

The sunset is beautiful because it has endured a long, fiery day, burning with all its might. If we wish to turn our disappointments into new beginnings, if we want to turn endings into fresh starts, we must learn to embrace the broken and the barren parts of our soul.

So perhaps, the sunset is both an end and a new beginning. For without the sunset, without the end of relationships that no longer serve us, we would never truly know what we need, nor would we have the peace to watch the sunset fall.

Even though endings may bring deep sorrow, we should turn that sorrow into something beautiful and peaceful. When the sunset finally fades, it carries with it no trace of sadness.

Author: Lido

I fell in love with you on a golden twilight evening as the sun was setting, when you turned around, looked at someone, and smiled brightly. In that moment, I knew I was lost to you. You were simply irresistible! The pale light of the afternoon scattered across the trees, and your smile made everything glow with an enchanting crispness.

I didn’t know who you were, where you came from, but I was intoxicated by you, more than I could ever be by a fine wine. My mind was hazy, lost in your presence, drifting along unfamiliar roads. I didn’t even ask for your contact information or try to chase after you—how foolish that seems now. But when the evening shadow began to fall, and the streetlights cast their golden glow, I snapped out of my trance. Is this what it feels like to fall for someone so deeply? Days later, the longing consumed me. I cursed myself for not acting then. I should’ve walked up to you, introduced myself, and planned to meet again. Instead, I just stood there, dumbfounded, engraving your image into my heart.

I feared I would lose you, wondering how I could live with myself if I never saw you again. But fate had other plans for us. I ran into you again on a rainy day in a small café near my workplace. You were sitting alone, looking rather troubled. You sipped your coffee, as though tasting the bitterness of your own sorrow. I guessed you had been through something painful. I missed your smile from that first moment. And so, my heart urged me to sit next to you, share my thoughts, and try to ease your loneliness in my own way.

I wanted to protect you, love you. You know, they say love is a two-way exchange, yet I couldn’t keep pouring my love into you without receiving anything in return. Didn’t you feel anything for me? If you didn’t love me, then why did you let me into your life? I didn’t understand you at all. I still remember the day we argued. I couldn’t stand your indifference any longer, and you, it seemed, wanted to end it all. I gripped your shoulders tightly and asked, “What am I to you? Have you ever loved me?” You shouted, admitting that you weren’t good enough for my love, that you could never move on from the pain you were carrying. “I can’t forget him.”

So that was the root of all your excuses—that you couldn’t move on from your past love. My hands fell helplessly by my sides as I left the room, stepping over the wounds you had just inflicted. My love wasn’t enough for you, was it? We were so right for each other, but if I had come to you at a different time, when you were ready to love again, perhaps we would have been happy together. But you, you chose to heal your wounds alone, without me. Letting you go was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?

Pham Yen Thuong