Top 10 Beautiful Poems by the Poet Giang Nam

Letter from the City

Poet: Giang Nam

Oh! The purple ink curls across the page
On the yellowing paper, no lines drawn
I can feel the warmth of your small hand
On the envelope, stained with our homeland's mark...

The letter arrives amidst the rainy season
And a glimpse of spring's sunshine peeks through
The rain still falls heavily on the red soil
Oh, how I miss your homeland so wide and far!

"I'm still eating and playing, I'm doing well
Don't worry, in this forested land!
The squash vines are heavy with fruit by the house
They await your return to cook in the stew

The child misses you, often restless at night
It cries, and I can't help but tear up
Please send back your old clothes
To wrap around our child, so I can feel your warmth

I still go to work every day, carrying burdens
The neighbors watch over our child
They may not be kin, but they care deeply!
You know why... Do you know, dear?

Our house has been flooded many times
The thatched roof torn apart, cold on the bed!
I’m not too sad because I know
You're suffering much more far away!

The rubber trees, the mountains, mist weeping
The cold nights, your teeth clenching in pain!
I feel for you, struggling for the child, your wife
Trading sweat for each meal we eat!

I know right now, under the rubber trees
You’re collecting sap, working for tomorrow
The sap flows, and you don’t stop fighting
Alongside comrades, so many people fighting..."

***

I lower my head over the small letter
My heart racing through the long night
I imagine your shadow behind the shutters
Each night I hear the wind wailing through the trees!

The half-empty house, a few village markets
Skinny arms, a small child
The wedding clothes faded by sun and rain
All that's left is a single bowl of rice!

For whom do you suffer, for whom does our child suffer
Though we're near, it still feels too far!
The rubber sap flows, thick as blood
When the dam breaks, the flood will come tomorrow!

Do you see, my love, the sky brightening?
The long nights of enslavement will pass!
Trust me, dear, we will make it through:
The whole nation stands with us.Details:

• Year composed: 1958
• Source: Giang Nam, Tháng Tám ngày mai, Nxb Văn học, 1962

Before the Blank Paper

Poet: Giang Nam

She sat in front of the blank paper
Hours passed without writing a word
The shadow of the tree shortened with the sun
The herd of buffaloes slowly passed over the bridge

The corrugated roof burned in the heat
Her forehead covered with beads of sweat
At the guard post, a few soldiers stood watch
Frozen still, as if they had been dead for a long time!

The little girl nursed from her mother
Her tiny hands fiddling with the folds
Her lips pursed, a smile blossoming
Under the blazing midday sun

Something sharp stung her eyes
Something salty lingered on her lips...
No, it could not be tears!
She clenched her teeth, determined to hold on to life!

Flashes of the resistance days
Fighting for every corner of the fields and ponds
Flashes of the days at the dock
Waving a handkerchief as he stepped onto the ship!

They wanted her to take the knife and slit open her belly
Cut away each strip of flesh, each vein
The vast sea and endless sky
Belong to us and our beloved homeland

The child cried out, her voice trembling
The frail hands desperately clinging to her shoulders
She went mad! Look, her lips were still moist
Her baby still suckling, still longing!

Should she write, so her child could live
Even just for one more day, one more moment?
She is a mother; who would not feel the waves of emotion
Before a child’s love, in the midst of long storms?

She held the pen, hesitating... her lips pressed tight
Suddenly frowning, clutching her breast, her eyes welled up
The pen slipped from her hand, rolling across the ground
Her child’s teeth marks on her bruised breast!

She suddenly startled, looking at her child with longing
The child’s eyes were filled with silent reproach, choking on emotion
The child did not speak, but she heard the voice:
- "Could it be, mother? Could it really be?"

A shadow appeared beside her
A familiar figure, with a bright gaze
Skin tanned, face somber, and serious:
- "Could it be, my dear? Could it really be?"

She suddenly sprang up, thinking she was holding her husband's hand
So torn, between sadness, joy, hope, and anger
The demons stormed in, pressing their guns by her side
She still sat, solemn, before the blank paper.

Details:

• Year of composition: 1958
• Source: Giang Nam, Tomorrow in August, Nxb Literature, 1962
  

A Set of Four Lines for You

Poet: Giang Nam

The distant lights blink, the cold mist
Yet still the engine hums beneath the mountain pass
I suddenly remember it's almost planting season
How much can you sleep at home, dear?
(Hồ Balatông Hunggari 1977)

We promised to meet after the victory
To pick wild orchids near the old forest
Five years have passed, do you still recall
New Year out here, my heart remains in Trường Sơn.
(Hà Nội 1980)

The sea spoke of happiness to you
And of the journeys it shared with me
At night, with no sound of waves, I lie awake
The sea and you, my heart full of longing.
(Hà Nội 1981)

In a rainy afternoon in Saigon, winds snap branches of the tamarind tree
I hear the storm in Central Vietnam, pitying you alone in confusion
How many storms have passed through a girl's life
Still, it’s only you standing strong, all alone.
(Ho Chi Minh City 1982)

There’s something in the sunlight, brighter than gold
Something in the rush of waves crashing
Wherever I look, I see a red shirt
You are far away, yet everything speaks for you.

Details:

• Year of Composition: 1985

Irrelevant

Poet: Giang Nam

I came across an old poem written for you
The paper has yellowed before it reached you
At the bottom of my backpack, amidst letters from friends
You are long gone, and so the poem has become irrelevant...

Details:

• Year of Composition: 1996
  
• Source: "Kiến thức ngày nay" issue 230, December 10, 1996
  

Ten Years

Poem by: Giang Nam

Ten years, we meet again
At night, we reclaim the distant homeland, waiting for each other
How joyful to hear your laughter
The moonlight, like comradeship, shines brightly
The path is a red gravel trail through the forest
The blooming rice flowers give off a sweet fragrance, as my shirt embraces it

The soldiers, their heads wrapped in headscarves
Their long rifles touch the earth, their eyes weary, their hands calloused
Do you remember the day we gathered?
The fields are soaked in the blood of the fallen sister, the streets ring with the sound of bells
Can you hear the ocean calling on a sorrowful night?
We long to kiss, to give our souls to those we love

Hurry, comrades, the poor hometown waits for us
Countless afternoons have passed waiting for our return
We come back from distant battlefields
With mothers lighting fires, and fathers burning down enemy posts
On the sacred stone, our hearts pound with the music of the wine
Roasted corn still warm in our palms, nurturing us like the water of yesteryear

Ten years, we meet again
Rejoicing in the village's distant celebrations
The land is blessed with a bountiful harvest in the spring
My sister, the ocean still roars in happiness

We walk side by side, shining bright
In the fields, flowers bloom, smiles grace the faces of all
We still hear the flute playing among the growing crops
The river flows, vibrant with the sounds of the market
The flag flutters above the durian trees
The young guerrilla stands tall, rising with strength

Oh, you, brother, with a worn-out uniform
The bitterness of war remains, but have you tasted the sweetness of victory?
What weighs on your heart, why the silence?
Your eyes moisten as you look towards Uncle Ho

Ten years, we meet again
Ten years of the land teaching us songs of heroism
Ten years of stepping on thorns
Ten years of guarding our sweet rivers
Saigon, this is for all of you
Oh, that spring, it felt like a dream
We have yet to return to the sacred stone isle
Sister, the ocean still roars within me
Each night, we strike, fighting the enemy with the spirit of our homeland

We cross the river, stepping on the mines
Leaping over the barrier, heading further
The land is vast and full of joy
Do you remember that moonlit night, when we marched together?
Ten years, the seeds have turned into forests
The march continues, and it won't stop until the mission is complete.

Details:

• The poem is recited by NSND Trần Thị Tuyết on the program Tiếng thơ of the Voice of Vietnam.
  

The Girl from Saigon

Poem: Giang Nam

The night is sleepless. The horizon is lit by fireworks
Saigon hears the bombs exploding very close
The ground trembles. And the lights suddenly go out
Faces blur in the blackness of war

The night is sleepless. Who shouts for tea in the streets?
The sound of wooden clogs echoes through the night
A Saigon that has stayed awake for years
In the roar of cannons, in the rush of cars

The night is sleepless. Suddenly, tears well up
Hearing the pounding boots that hurt the sidewalk
Hearing the music play a wild tune
Hearing the crazy laughter, the temptation

They are burning themselves in the alcohol
In silk and in kisses on their lips
They celebrate after hours of killing
Vietnamese blood turns into gold in their pockets

Where will they go tomorrow?
Oh, those who live by crime!
The sleepless night echoes a song
From those years, from those lives

The river bearing the name of the bright city
Will it return to you tonight?
Across the white land, the cuckoo calls with longing
The person at the head of the river yearns for the one at the river’s end

Lying, I hear the warm breath of my child
Among the sounds of rushing time
In the burning memory of each page of the calendar
I long to fly to distant horizons

Sleep well, my child, mother won’t sing lullabies
When bombs explode and chains rattle
Sleep in peace so you can grow up tomorrow
The lullaby mother sings to send you off

You will walk under the coconut trees of your homeland
With birds flying, and the red evening glow
The color of the earth, eternal and unchanged
A truly homegrown homeland

Sleep well and know how to wait
Oh, round mines with eyes
Fire at a thousand degrees, bury it deep, press it tightly
For the day when steel flows, we will pass

Sleep well and know how to wait
Oh, guns carrying the meaning of comradeship
When the country swears not to be slaves
The thousand winds today contribute to tomorrow’s storm

The enemy's eyes are as red as embers
How many times have they pierced my skin?
How many times have I whispered to my child
Speaking to the faraway one, also speaking to myself

They are shadows hiding the dawn
They are the death that despises happiness
I am so afraid, of those long days in prison
How much longer, my dear?…

"The American tanks run over people, folks, chase them!"
Someone calls out loud in the street
And the sound of guns, the hurried footsteps
- "Kill the Americans, their blood debt must be paid!"

The police cars, the military vehicles wail madly
Unable to stop the waves of people rushing forward
Riding rickshaws, with tanned arms bare
Girls carrying school bags, with hair in disarray

Mother lies on the tattered mat
Surrounded by small baskets of goods
Maize and rice grains that once nourished us
From the old days, from the past...

Forever mother will not fan your innocent sleep
Forever mother still dreams of a warm room
Wiping her eyes, today’s children and friends
Thu Thiem, Ong Lan Bridge, Thi Nghe

The soldiers who kill, they are cursed, listen
To the burning rage of this land
Return to us
Return to us
The hardworking lives of early and late hours
Bricks and stones rain down on the police

Against missiles and batons, only the hearts of people
Ripped clothes, sweat rolling down the cheeks
Those who fall still shout: Don’t be afraid
He holds the car for me to grab your hand to block the way

The one being dragged, eyes wide open
- Folks, this is the nation, independence!
Writhing in the choking smoke
Hands bleeding, still holding tightly to the earth
Before the brutal beasts in masks, without hearts

Oh, must I silently witness the crimes?
Mother’s tears flow, bitterly swallowed
Why isn’t this skin a bomb that explodes with force?
Why isn’t this gaze a flame to burn the cars!

Where will they bury mother, secretly at night
No tombstone, no one to cry
Only loneliness and humiliation
Oh, the motherland’s soil is also the soil of our ancestors

When the law-makers are thieves riding tanks
When the house owner has no house to live in
Oh, the orphaned girls rummaging through trash to feed their siblings and dying in silence
By the giant cranes and sandbags, machine guns

They must pay us not just for the green color
They must pay us not just for blood and tears
Walking through Saigon in the roar of iron tracks
What can I say to my mother, mother!

Suddenly, I remember the faraway countryside
Where, for twenty-five years, there was never a silence of guns
Where the trees are dead and the earth is scalding hot
Where people live in bunkers by bomb craters

There, mother left like a hero
The lilies bloom red like the flag on the high mound where mother rests
There, my dear sister has become a heroine
Oh, the little girl who once angrily left me, refusing to eat

Củ Chi, Củ Chi... also dust and ponds, small gardens
Such a small space yet deeply missed
The faraway people hear the earth calling louder
Knowing how to live faithfully, live as steel and copper

The sky is high, signaling a storm
There’s the call of the cuckoo from somewhere deep
Like in a dream, endless rows of streets
Under the scorching summer, boiling with heat

Oh, how I long to speak the words of humanity
"I am a Viet Cong here" before a pack of wild beasts
My beloved, where are you now with guns blazing?
For Saigon, for all the bloodshed

Oh, how I wish to live as I did yesterday
The enemy came, to the front lines to fight
Sleeping peacefully under the roar of artillery
There are neighborhoods, villages sharing joy and pain

Saigon, oh, with the sound of wailing
The owls want to press the night into their chests
They fear the sunrise
From the poor alleys, the stagnant water
They fear the glowing embers we hold with perseverance

They search, they seek
The untold secret
The city never rests

Behind every family door is a torn heart
Who will be killed tomorrow? Who will go to jail tomorrow?

Fire will reveal the enemy’s face
Fire will burn the airports filled with petrol bombs
And the giants, the evil giants
Oh, the nameless ones who keep the fire, keeping it for life...

Details:

• Year of creation: 1998
  
• Source: Ánh chớp đêm giao thừa (epic poem), Giang Nam, NXB Quân đội nhân dân, 1998
  

Prelude

Poem: Giang Nam

It has been thirty years
The heroes departed
On that spring night filled with gunshots
The night the red flag flew
Making the streets of Saigon tremble...

Who among the crowd today, rushing through the streets,
Still remembers them?
The children born in the poor, trash-filled neighborhood
Now grown into young men
Wives from those years, wearing patched clothes
Hiding and raising husbands who fought the enemy
How many silver strands in their hair now?
Who still remembers them?
Who still remembers our heroes?

It has been thirty years
They left and never returned
But in Saigon, we light a sacred flame
"The Americans could never defeat us
Even with half a million soldiers at their command
Even after they destroyed so many of Vietnam's poor villages"
The 'Viet Cong' were clever
They were everywhere
Striking at unexpected moments
Leaving the Pentagon leaders stunned
Ten, twenty-five years later
Generals with four and five stars
And brilliant strategists
Wrote countless books about our heroes
To justify
To downplay
The heroic, eternal deeds of ordinary men
Brother Ba, that night when our heroes attacked the US Embassy
We were in the outskirts
Eagerly awaiting news
From the "Restless and nostalgic glow"
We waited for news
From the main divisions advancing
We waited for news
From the silent rivers where the people worked their way to the front
They moved toward our heroes
Toward spring. Towards Saigon
The city, in pain but never yielding

Ah, the legendary year sixty-eight
That began with these words:
"North and South competing to fight the Americans
Forward, victory is certain!"

It has been thirty years
Who still remembers...

Detailed information:

• Source: Lightning of New Year's Eve (epic), Giang Nam, Military Publishing House, 1998
  

In 1960, while in the battlefield in Khanh Hoa, Giang Nam received devastating news that shattered his heart: His wife (Pham Thi Chieu) and their first daughter (Trang), only a little over a year old, had been killed by the American-South Vietnamese forces in prison. The poem was written under these tragic circumstances.

Homeland

Poem by: Giang Nam

• When I was young, going to school every day,
  I loved my homeland through every small page of books:
  "Who says tending buffaloes is a hardship?"
  I dreamt while hearing birds sing high above
  Those days of skipping school
  Chasing butterflies by the pond
  Mother caught me...
  Before the whip could touch me, I was already crying!
  There was a little girl from the next house
  She looked at me and giggled...
  
  ***
  
  The revolution erupted
  Then the long resistance war
  My homeland was filled with the enemy
  I bid farewell to my mother and left
  The little girl from next door - (who could have guessed!)
  She too joined the guerrillas
  When I met her, she still giggled
  With her big round eyes (so full of affection!)
  In the middle of the march, we couldn’t speak a word
  The unit passed by, and I turned back to look...
  The rain was pouring, but my heart remained warm...
  
  ***
  
  When peace came, I returned
  To the old school, sugarcane fields, and plowed land
  I met her again
  Shyly standing behind the door...
  Still giggling when I asked softly
  About her husband and children (hard to talk about, dear!)
  I held her tiny hand with emotion
  She let me hold it, her hand still warm...
  
  Today I received the news about her
  I couldn't believe it, though it was the truth
  The enemy shot her and threw her body away
  Only because she was a guerrilla, oh dear!
  My heart broke in half!
  
  Before, I loved my homeland because of the birds and butterflies
  The days of skipping school and getting scolded...
  Now, I love my homeland because in every handful of earth
  There’s a part of her, my sister.

Details:

• Year written: 1960
• Source: Giang Nam, Tomorrow's August, Literature Publishing House, 1962
  

Hearing You Enter University

Poetry by: Giang Nam

Hearing you enter university
Half believing, half doubting, with a name like mine...
Today I received your letter
Your slanted handwriting smiling on white paper
I sit here feeling the sunshine
Over Hoan Kiem Lake and your head
Sweet winds from home, the quiet rivers...
Southern land, do you still remember
The years of resistance, hardships endured
The enemy surrounded the village, homes destroyed
The school, burned down, but the moonlight stayed
Between two battles, I taught you to read
Using burnt coal on a red brick wall
Drawing flags and circles
Your head tilting with each shaky letter...
There were times you couldn’t memorize your lessons
I didn’t scold you, but you cried in sorrow!
Out of love, I tried to comfort you:
"Keep studying, one day you’ll surpass me
To write down songs, to read the news!"
Oh! such humble dreams, the simplest ones
How grand they seemed back then, my dear!

Today, you can write the 'song' I longed for
Not the old 'Marching Song' we once sang
But I had not yet entered university
Never sat in lecture halls, never wore student attire
Unaware of the reason days and nights follow each other
Unknowing which land holds the most wealth...
The enemy had offered us prisons, bombs
Seven years spent in the blood of struggle
The teacher who taught you the alphabet last year
Hadn’t even gotten past first grade lessons!
Still struggling with math problems!
The letter I wrote to you, I had to erase and rewrite several times!
But I’m not sad because I know that you
Are now sitting in my place, under the university roof

One day, when the nation is united
You’ll return and teach me to read
Not with charcoal on the bricks!
Not hiding from the enemy...
You’ll tell me: "Keep trying, study hard!..."
I’ll smile, remembering the moonlit nights...
The system will give you wings
And the honor of leading the way!

I’ll stay up all night, just for you
To tell you stories of the southern battles...
The story starts: "Back in the day, in our homeland
I only attended one school: the revolution..."

Details:

• Written in August 1961
• Source: Giang Nam, The August Tomorrow, Literary Publishing House, 1962
  

The poem The Voice of Vietnam expresses the emotions of the people from the South. Back then, in the South, listening to radio broadcasts from the Voice of Vietnam was a secret affair, as all communications with the North were tightly controlled. Despite this, the people in the South had a deep longing to hear the Voice of Vietnam, because it was the voice of the Party, of President Ho Chi Minh, and of the beloved North.

The Voice of Vietnam

Poetry by: Giang Nam

• To the Voice of Vietnam radio station
  
  The voice of the motherland, soft as a lullaby
  Beside the cradle, singing the child to sleep
  I hear the southern voice, so tender, yet strangely familiar
  As if it’s always been here!
  
  "This is the Voice of Vietnam! This is Hanoi"
  Though far away, it whispers softly in my ear!
  Breaking through the barriers, pushing back the darkness
  Igniting the flame of hope in the hearts of the people
  
  Like a mother's breast, always nourishing
  Like a river that flows endlessly
  Carrying the people's dreams on gentle wings
  Spreading sunshine across every corner of the earth!
  
  Each segment, each word, each letter
  Every mispronounced syllable, every common mistake
  Yet it remains warm, sweet, like a breath
  Beautiful, like the loyalty of a loved one!
  
  The voice of the announcer, gentle and clear
  Brings the news: a factory has completed its work
  I imagine tomorrow, the joy of victory
  The smokestacks rise peacefully above the Mekong Delta!
  
  Oh! On the days when the enemy raided
  Our homeland, the announcer suddenly stopped
  She had read the news, but tears blurred her words
  Millions listening shared in her sorrow...
  
  The American tanks rolled through our streets
  And songs of chaos and decadence blared
  But nothing could stop it – no hand could hold back
  The voice of our Party, the voice of President Ho Chi Minh!
  
  The song of Dien Bien still warms every door
  Breaking through the fences, crossing borders, past the watchtowers!
  Saigon stayed up at night, listening to Hanoi
  Hearing the news of the capital in its heart!

Details:

• Source: Giang Nam, The August Tomorrow, Literary Publishing House, 1962