Top 10 Best Analytical Essays on Nguyễn Duy's Poem 'Đò Lèn'

The memories of childhood and familial love are profound emotions in Nguyễn Duy's heart, emotions that are vividly expressed in his later poetry and works. 'Đò Lèn' is one of his most remarkable pieces, capturing the cherished memories with his loving grandmother.

Having lost his mother at an early age, Nguyễn Duy’s childhood spent with his grandmother became a unique and enduring memory that resonates deeply within the poet’s soul. The poem 'Đò Lèn' is a heartfelt expression of the poet’s deepest emotions for his grandmother. It opens with a reflection on his childhood with her:

“As a child, I went to the Na Canal to catch fish,

Holding my grandmother’s skirt as she went to Bình Lâm market,

Catching sparrows near the Buddha statue’s ear,

And sometimes stealing lychees from Trần Temple.”

The simple yet familiar verses by Nguyễn Duy invite readers to recall their own childhoods, filled with universal experiences such as fishing, following a grandmother to the market, or chasing birds. These straightforward lines evoke powerful emotions, reminding us of those tender moments that everyone can relate to.

“I stand between the two worlds of truth and illusion,

Between my grandmother and the gods, Buddha, and spirits.”

Among all the memories of his youth, the most lasting and poignant for Nguyễn Duy are those involving his grandmother. Alongside childhood games, the poet recalls accompanying his grandmother to Sòng Temple, listening to a medium sing, and experiencing the fragrance of lilies mixed with incense smoke. In his grandmother’s stories, he envisions her as a divine being, like a goddess or Buddha. These verses express the poet’s deep love and respect for her.

“The American bombs fell, and my grandmother’s house was destroyed,

The Sòng Temple was wiped out, along with all the pagodas,

Where did the gods and Buddha go?”

My grandmother sold eggs at Lèn station.”

Having been separated from his parents at an early age, his grandmother was the only family he had. She not only played the role of a father but also took on the duties of a mother and grandmother. Despite a difficult life, she never stopped caring for her grandson. Amid the horrors of war, bombs not only ravaged the homeland but also left indelible scars on the poet’s heart.

“Where did the gods and Buddha go?” The poet’s confused perception at the time evokes a deep sorrow, as the fairytale-like realm of happiness in the stories seemed to have been destroyed by the brutal reality. As the poet grew up, joined the army, and took on the responsibility of protecting the country, his love for his grandmother became his driving force in battle, to defend the most beautiful parts of the land. This, perhaps, is the most meaningful continuation of life.

‘Đò Lèn’ by Nguyễn Duy beautifully conveys the grandson’s love for his grandmother while taking the readers back to their own childhoods. It reminds us to cherish the true values of life, to love and appreciate more.

Alongside successful works like 'Cát Trắng', 'Ánh Trăng', and 'Đãi Cát Tìm Vàng', Nguyễn Duy's poem 'Đò Lèn' has left a lasting impression on readers. Written in 1983, this poem reflects the poet’s return to his homeland, immersing himself in memories of his complex, bittersweet childhood.

When reminiscing about childhood, one typically recalls peaceful and beautiful images. However, Nguyễn Duy’s reflection on his youth is marked by memories of wartime turmoil:

“As a child, I went to the Na Canal to catch fish,

Held my grandmother's skirt while going to Bình Lâm market,

Caught sparrows near the Buddha's ear,

And occasionally stole lychees from Trần Temple.”

The poet's childhood was filled with carefree moments like fishing, accompanying his grandmother to the market, catching sparrows, and even sneaking lychees. Moreover, his childhood was spent in places of spiritual significance, following his grandmother to Cây Thị Temple, attending Sòng Temple ceremonies, and listening to ritual songs. This reveals a playful, energetic, and curious boy whose memories are deeply entwined with his grandmother, rather than with other children.

Thanks to his grandmother, the poet was introduced to sacred places and the rich spiritual life of their community. The bond between grandmother and grandson was strong, as the boy always followed her to the market or the temple. However, as the poet grew older, he began to realize the hardships his grandmother endured:

“I didn’t know how hard my grandmother worked,

She dug for crabs and caught shrimp in Quan fields,

She carried green tea to sell at Ba Trại,

And trudged to Quán Cháo, Đồng Giao, during chilly nights.”

In his youthful ignorance, the poet failed to understand the struggles his grandmother faced in making a living. She worked tirelessly—digging for crabs, carrying tea, and selling eggs. She assumed the roles of both father and mother in raising him. The poem shifts from childhood memories of play to portraying the resilience and sacrifice of his grandmother.

“I stood between two realms, illusion and reality,

Between my grandmother and the gods, Buddha, and spirits,

In the year of famine, eating tough cassava roots,

While the fragrance of white lilies and incense filled the air.”

His grandmother’s love was divine, akin to the gods or Buddha, enduring hardships to nurture him. Even in the harshest times, she never faltered. Despite the famine, where they had to eat raw cassava, the poet recalls the sweet scent of lilies and incense, which perhaps symbolize his cherished memories of visiting the temples with his grandmother. As the war ravaged their lives:

“American bombs destroyed my grandmother's house,

The Sòng Temple vanished, all the pagodas disappeared,

Where did the gods and Buddha go?”

My grandmother sold eggs at Lèn station.”

The poet reflects on the relentless hardships his grandmother faced. Despite bombs destroying her home and sacred places, she continued to survive, selling eggs at the station. These struggles didn’t break her but made her more resilient. This strength is that of a true hero, embodying greatness in the face of adversity. Time passed quickly, and the child grew into a soldier:

“I joined the army, and long ago left my homeland,

The old river still flows, by the eroding and depositing banks,

When I finally understood my love for my grandmother, it was too late,

She had become nothing but a small mound of grass.”

The poet expresses deep regret, realizing only in adulthood the sacrifices his grandmother made. By the time he wished to repay her, she was gone. This verse conveys the pain of losing a beloved figure, the sadness of unspoken words and unreturned gratitude. The poet's sorrow is palpable, and the regret is overwhelming. The use of contrast between the child’s playful ignorance and the grandmother’s sacrifice contributes to the poem’s success. Nguyễn Duy’s portrayal of his grandmother’s tireless labor and devotion resonates deeply with readers.

Life has certain things we call longing, distant and intangible; there are memories that linger endlessly, deeply; and there are emotions we call love that are always warm and profound, but only when we grow older do we truly understand their names. We call them nostalgia, longing, love…

Human life is fleeting like a leaf; in the blink of an eye, a young sprout can turn golden. People grow up, struggle to live, and often find themselves yearning for their childhood, like a distant memory. For Nguyen Duy, this is a whole world of 'Do Len' – a place where timeless values are gathered – a poem whose very name stirs many thoughts in one's heart.

For those who know it, the place feels familiar, but for those who don't, the question arises: what is 'Do Len'? Those two words unintentionally become a concept hard to imagine, while in reality, they are quite simple. It is not a boat, a river, a wharf, or anything that might pop up upon first hearing the name. 'Do Len' is the name of a land like any other, a place that shaped childhood memories for many people in Thanh Hoa:

When I was little, I went to the Na canal to fish,

Held onto my grandmother’s skirt as she went to the Bình Lâm market,

Caught sparrows near the Buddha statue,

And sometimes, I would steal longans from Trần Pagoda.

The poet evokes childhood through the image of his grandmother, with memories of childhood games. Here, there are mischievous boys who loved fishing, and girls who clung to their grandmother’s skirt as she went to the market for treats. The Na canal and Bình Lâm market were undoubtedly a paradise to the poet. He writes about them simply and truthfully, as though bringing them straight from life, not just from nostalgia. From catching sparrows to stealing longans from the temple… wandering through fields, temples, and gardens filled with birdsong.

The space opens up, vast and boundless, satisfying the curious, explorative nature of childhood, immersing them in nature, in the sky and earth. Playing freely, mischievously, reveals the endless joy of life. That is truly the essence of childhood, vastly different from the cramped, confined space we live in now. One can imagine a mischievous boy, all dirtied, but with bright, shining eyes.

No fancy clothes, no dolls, no superheroes – this kind of childhood only lingers in the memories of grown-ups, in the curious eyes of children who watch old films and read fairy tales – from the time of our fathers and grandfathers. The lines in the poem flow like a slow-motion film, moving on endlessly:

When I was small, I went to play at the Cây Thị temple,

Walking barefoot at night to watch the Sòng temple ceremony,

The scent of white lilies mingled with incense smoke,

The song of the shaman echoed as she danced.

Returning to childhood, we realize the innocent, pure happiness of tiny feet running everywhere, lulling themselves in the scent and the song. The image of 'barefoot' has become unforgettable to everyone, the feeling of feeling the cool earth beneath your feet is a mark of the journey through long-ago ceremonies.

Just like that, the scent of white lilies, incense smoke, and the shaman's song have entered us unconsciously! Together, they formed a childhood full of innocence and mischief, embedded deep in the souls of those who passed through childhood. Sometimes, we wish we could 'buy a ticket back to our childhood.' From that time until now is a whole process of growing up, of forming awareness. When we were little, carefree and without worries:

I didn’t know how hard my grandmother worked,

She caught crabs and shrimp in Quan field,

She carried green tea to the Ba Trại market,

And ran the porridge shop at Đồng Giao on cold nights.

Grandmother appeared in my life silently, quietly… The innocent mind and childish heart did not know what hardship was, observing things and quickly forgetting them. We can’t blame them because children can’t be as profound as adults; if they were, their souls would have hardened, losing the innocent, childlike nature – the innocence nurtured by grandmother’s sweat and tears. Noble love protects the soul from storms. When we were little, loving grandmother was like loving the fairy-tale stories that were so magical:

I was transparent between two realms of reality and illusion,

Between my grandmother and the fairy, Buddha, saints, and gods.

Grandmother infused my young heart with the essence of our nation's spirit, passed down through centuries. Her stories were rich in fairy-tale colors, taking me into a world of miraculous wonders: The fairy-tale of Tấm emerging from the quince fruit, Cinderella marrying the prince. Grandmother had silver hair, a gentle smile like the fairy in the stories. She warned me that evil spirits were dangerous, urging me to listen to her… There were many, many more...

It was these stories that helped me learn to love goodness, hate evil, dream, and hope. Sometimes, revisiting childhood means returning to such moments, hearing my grandmother’s warm voice. My soul would be purified, becoming brighter. The boundary between reality and illusion is as transparent as childhood itself. So easy to believe, to remember, and so easy to forget.

As we grow, we must face reality; hunger becomes an enduring nightmare:

The year of famine, the steamed dong leaf and root tasted so bitter,

Yet I could still smell the scent of white lilies and incense.

Reading these verses, I suddenly remember that time:

That was the year of famine, the horses and carts grew thin,

Only the smoke that made my eyes blurry remains,

Thinking of it now, my nose still stings!

The famine of 1945 was a terrifying nightmare spread across the country. The dong leaf and root became a companion, bitter yet unforgettable, deserving of sympathy. The scent of white lilies, the incense smoke lingered like a faint return to peace… The innocent children dreamed of a scent that had deeply embedded itself in the land, in their souls, so familiar and simple.

Hunger did not cloud the pure hearts of children; instead, it sparked dreams and hidden, yet beautiful emotions. What remains in the memory of past peace? Is it nostalgia for painful, sorrowful times?

American bombs rained down, and my grandmother’s house was destroyed,

The Sòng temple was destroyed, everything vanished,

The saints and Buddhas, where did they go?

My grandmother went to sell eggs at Lèn station.

The homeland, in its harshness, is deeply embedded in memory, as familiar images and objects are destroyed. Bombs and shells not only devastated the land but also erased the beauty of childhood. Alongside the former paradise was destruction and desolation. My grandmother’s house, the temple, everything vanished so quickly for the children who hadn’t yet fully grown up. 'Where did the saints and Buddhas go?' stirs up deep sorrow, as if touching a sensitive wound.

The childlike curiosity became a painful question for someone who truly understood, like my grandmother. No longer innocent, perhaps the children of the past now understand the reasons behind it. Yet they still could not fully believe, hence their hesitation to ask. No more saints, no more Buddhas, just harsh, violent reality. But grandmother remained the same, struggling through the days: 'My grandmother went to sell eggs at Lèn station.' As we grow older, we come to understand more fully, and it becomes a journey back to those tender memories:

I became a soldier, and I didn’t return to my maternal grandmother’s home for a long time,

The river from my childhood still divides the land,

When I finally understood love for my grandmother, it was too late,

She was nothing more than a patch of grass.

All affection is directed towards grandmother, the hardworking figure brimming with love. She raised me, and today I stand here as a grown, responsible man. I have become a soldier, protecting this land, safeguarding childhoods like mine. There is a sense of regret, of late love. How many lives are complete? The river, too, divides the land, just like people. We say it's too late, but it's never too late.

Love does not need to be shown explicitly; growing up into a person is the best way to show love for my grandmother. Now, standing before her grave, the hardships and sacrifices she endured become more real. She took everything beautiful from my childhood with her, peacefully through her struggles. Losing her is not the end. She is gone, but I grow, and contribute to my country; that is the way to continue life with meaning. My grandmother's patch of grass keeps all the pain buried, holding onto a pure memory for people to return to when tired.

Our country has countless grandmothers like that! She embodies the gentle, hardworking Vietnamese woman. During wartime, she became a second mother, nurturing her grandchildren and preserving their childhoods. Everywhere we hear mention of grandmothers, as the most sacred image. Grandmother enters everyone’s heart naturally, as a timeless memory:

'The noon rooster’s crow,

Bringing endless happiness,

At night, I dream of her,

In a sleep colored like red eggs.'

Grandmother, childhood, and the familiar images in life create the highest values. Why search for the distant when happiness always accompanies us in life? It is unconditional love, those days of carefree play. They are like brilliant colors lighting up the soul, guiding us toward beauty and goodness: 'Humans are born with an inherently good nature.'

Together with grandmother, the homeland of Do Len appears vividly, shining through childhood. It emerges in youthful mischief, in every childhood dream, a place to immerse and dive. This land, sometimes peaceful, sometimes burdened by bombs, but always carrying the sweet scent of lilies, a scent that has become a part of the subconscious, existing forever in memory.

Do Len, with its Na canal, Trần Pagoda, the river with both eroded and flourishing banks, a simple yet deeply sincere name. Do Len – where there is grandmother, where there is love and memory, existing eternally with longing!

Nguyễn Duy is a talented writer whose poetry has resonated deeply with generations, with notable works like 'Tre Việt Nam.' Even though the author has declared a 'pause from writing,' his contributions to Vietnamese literature remain profound and impactful. We are honored to present his poem 'Đò Lèn,' which captures the essence of folk traditions through a simple yet captivating verse that evokes nostalgia for a lost past.

This poem reflects the deep affection for the homeland, the love for family, and the profound sense of regret and longing that comes with time. It carries a powerful humanistic message that serves as a reminder to appreciate the moments and connections we have.

Childhood memories and nostalgia seem to be a persistent theme in Nguyễn Duy's work. In his poem 'Ánh Trăng,' he reflects on the post-war experience, where a return to modern comforts led to a forgetting of the difficult past. However, a fleeting moment of a moonlit night, when the city experienced a power outage, awakened within him memories of simpler times, when the countryside was rich in natural beauty and untainted by the trappings of urban life.

Similarly, in 'Đò Lèn,' the poet reflects on the memories of his childhood, brought to life through the eyes of a grown soldier thinking about his deceased grandmother. The poem paints a vivid picture of a young boy's simple joys and playful innocence. From catching birds to following his grandmother to the market, the imagery is both personal and universal, evoking nostalgia for the carefree days of youth.

The poem also depicts the boy's growing understanding of his grandmother's hard life, working tirelessly in fields and carrying burdens on her shoulders. Places mentioned in the poem like 'Đò Lèn, Đồng Quan, Chè Xanh Ba Trại, Quán Cháo, Đồng Giao' are not just geographical locations but symbols of the poet's deep connection to his roots, and each location carries the weight of personal memories.

The memory of his grandmother, deeply intertwined with these places, serves as a thread linking the past with the present, reminding us of the importance of family and ancestry. The poem's sense of nostalgia is not just for the past but also for the lost connections with the people who shaped our lives. It is a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of time and the importance of cherishing those who came before us:

'I was transparent between the realms of illusion and reality, Between my grandmother and the gods, the saints, During the hunger years, boiling dong leaves, I could still smell the fragrance of white lilies and incense.'

The poem concludes with an image of the poet's grandmother, who has passed away, and the poignant realization that the poet's connection to her, and to his roots, was only truly understood too late. This sense of loss, paired with the deep love for one's origins, is a powerful theme in Nguyễn Duy's work, conveying not just personal sorrow but also a universal human experience.

In a sea of childhood memories, the poet’s reflection on his grandmother’s life—a life of hardship, self-sacrifice, and love for her grandchild—is deeply moving. While these sacrifices are not unique to Vietnamese mothers and grandmothers, Nguyễn Duy's intimate and genuine portrayal of them creates a lasting emotional impact, reminding readers of the importance of family and the regrets we may harbor as time passes. The poet encapsulates the true life of his grandmother in this heartfelt poem.

In the realm of literature, there are poems and verses that, upon first reading, you may not be able to memorize, but they possess an enigmatic allure that lingers in your mind, as though a powerful force is at work. These verses resonate deeply, touching parts of our souls that had remained dormant, awakening emotions that we had long kept buried. In the busyness of life, with the constant hustle and bustle, we often lose the time to sit still, to relive the beautiful memories and nostalgic moments of our childhood.

The poetry of Nguyễn Duy has the ability to awaken all of these deep, human feelings within us. "The highest civic duty of a writer is to write beautifully, to awaken the best parts of the human heart, and to help people live in a way that cherishes their existence in this world" (Vũ Quần Phương). I believe this is the noble mission and the greatest responsibility of a talented writer, who carries a deep concern for life and humanity.

Nguyễn Duy, whose full name is Nguyễn Duy Nhuệ, was born in 1948 in Đông Vệ (now part of Thanh Hóa). In 1965, he enlisted in the military, fighting in famous battlefields during the war against American imperialism, such as Khe Sanh and the southern part of the Laos Route 9. After leaving the army, he attended the University of Hanoi. Since 1977, he has been a permanent representative for Văn Nghệ newspaper in the southern region. Before becoming a writer, Nguyễn Duy held a gun as a soldier in the truest sense. Perhaps it was these life experiences, the trials between life and death, loyalty and indignation, that gave him a strong and profound heart.

Nguyễn Duy has written many significant poems expressing his feelings about family, friends, and memories of his childhood, all of which have left deep impressions on him throughout his life. "Đò Lèn" is a powerful reflection of his memories of his grandmother, a woman who lived through difficult times, and it moves him deeply with both admiration and affection.

Unlike Bằng Việt's poem "Bếp Lửa", which celebrates the warmth of the stove as a symbol of maternal love and hope, guiding the soldier through his journey, "Đò Lèn" focuses on portraying the grandmother's silent, patient sacrifices until "she became nothing more than a handful of grass". The poem evokes deep emotions, making readers reflect deeply and feel a sense of sorrow that touches the soul. The image of the grandmother, though faded with time, remains vivid in all of us, regardless of our circumstances.

The poem consists of six stanzas, capturing memories of the grandmother that, though distant in time, remain clear in the poet's heart. The first stanza contains moving and humorous details:

“As a child, I went to the Na drain to catch fish,

pulled at my grandmother's skirt as she went to Bình Lâm market,

caught sparrows by the ears of the Buddha statue,

and sometimes I stole longan fruits from the Trần temple.”

The poet paints a picture of his childhood, where he and his grandmother walk together along the road of memory. The simple, realistic memories of childhood—“going to school twice a day”, “catching sparrows”, “stealing longan from the Trần temple”—are filled with innocence and joy, becoming beautiful memories as we grow older. The simple, unpretentious verses express the carefree and mischievous nature of childhood.

The poet also remembers fondly the moments when he “pulled at my grandmother’s skirt as she went to Bình Lâm market”. The image of the grandmother and grandchild is warm, close, and grounded in the simplicity of everyday life. The child depended on the grandmother to grow up, and their shared walks to the market marked a time of innocence and clarity. The poet reflects:

“As a child, I went to visit the Cây Thị temple,

barefoot at night to watch the ceremony at Sòng temple,

the scent of white lilies mixed with the fragrance of incense,

the song of the medium swaying in the temple.”

The poet feels like he is caught between the real and the ethereal worlds. The grandmother is part of the “real” world, while the deities and spirits belong to the “ethereal” realm. Perhaps this was the most captivating impression, which is why it is repeated throughout the poem. The grandmother has merged into this mystical world, a world of purity, goodness, and tolerance. The phrase “so fragrant” evokes a warm, alluring sensation that transcends time and space, as the memory of the scent keeps the poet tied to the past:

“The land of the Northwest has no calendar days,

yet the first meal of sticky rice still carries the fragrance of lilies.”

(From “The Song of the Ship” by Chế Lan Viên)

The memories flood back, carrying a strange pull. The poet lives again in the past, where there are earthy steps, the swaying shadow of the medium, the boiled wild yam, and the smell of white lilies and incense. Both real and intangible, these memories of the nights spent at Sòng Sơn temple remain deeply embedded in the poet’s mind, alongside the reverence of the sacred, often encapsulated in the saying: “Sòng Temple is the holiest in Thanh.”

The incense blends with the mist, and the grandmother’s figure emerges in the memory, so vividly present yet elusive, like autumn mist. The “so fragrant” scent of the sacred incense might also represent the grandmother's own spirit. The white lilies on her altar today carry the scent of the past. Immersed in this ethereal world, the poet suddenly realizes:

“I never knew my grandmother struggled so much,

she searched for crabs and shrimps in the Quan field,

she carried green tea leaves from Ba Trại,

selling porridge at Đồng Giao during the cold nights.”

There is a sense of regret in the poet’s words as he recalls his grandmother’s hard life to provide for herself and her family. He never truly understood her struggles when he was young, as he was too innocent and carefree. The words carry a subtle sense of self-blame, even though he bears no fault. The poet pushes aside the mist to reveal the true struggles of his grandmother.

The poet emphasizes the real, daily hardships of the grandmother, mentioning specific places that ground the poem in the concrete reality of her life. These references serve as a direct portrayal of her difficult existence. The reader is deeply moved by the line: “Selling porridge at Đồng Giao during the cold nights.”

The phrase “thập thững” accurately evokes the uneven, slow steps taken by the grandmother on a rugged path, her strength worn thin by age. The reader feels both sympathy and empathy in those words, which convey a sense of loneliness and the cold winds of the past. The word “thập thững” creates a visual image, but more importantly, it stirs emotion and a feeling of pity for the old woman.

The grandchild remembers and cherishes his grandmother deeply, and in fact, there are countless others like her, walking through the night. Neither she nor they can count the many weary steps taken. The earth bears witness to her sacrifices and reminds us not to forget.

The next two stanzas evoke a different feeling, though not unfamiliar to the previous ones: “I spent my whole life between the real and the unreal, between my grandmother and the deities, during the year of famine, eating boiled wild yam, always smelling the fragrance of lilies and incense. The bombs rained down, my grandmother’s house was destroyed, the Sòng Temple was destroyed, and the deities and Buddhas disappeared. My grandmother went to sell eggs at Lèn station.”

Don’t rush to assume that the poet has downplayed the divine in order to elevate his grandmother. That would be wrong, as she had always humbled herself in that sacred space. The poet is merely recounting the reality as he saw it, without judgment.

When the temples were destroyed, there was nowhere for the grandmother to worship anymore. The poet stands between these two worlds, torn, but in the end, the memory of his grandmother’s steps, just as they were, remains: “My grandmother went to sell eggs at Lèn station.”

It is often said, “The Buddha resides in the heart.” The grandmother cultivated her soul through love and sacrifice, through her tireless steps in the night. She has transformed into a deity, but she remains the grandmother. “My grandmother went to sell eggs at Lèn station.” At first glance, the poem simply describes her actions.

But poetry does not accept simplicity or crude interpretation. Behind the words lies a portrait the poet has painted for his grandmother, acknowledging the years of hardship and expressing gratitude. The poem does not end because her journey continues. She walks on… never returning, leaving a profound, endless memory in Nguyễn Duy’s heart.

She returned to the earth simply, humbly, yet with great dignity. Behind her worn shoes and patched brown robe is a heart, a soul that carried the concerns of her children and grandchildren. Nguyễn Duy doesn’t add any more words, for at this point, we are meant to pause, reflect, and contemplate—the narrative itself is poetic. The final lines of the poem are filled with struggle and introspection:

“I went to war… and never returned to my grandmother’s home,

the old river is still here, but I no longer visit,

when I learned to love my grandmother, it was too late,

she became nothing but a handful of grass.”

The ellipsis between the lines marks the countless steps taken on the battlefield, the nights spent in the forest, and the years gone by. Life is short, “The human life is but thirty thousand days” (Nguyễn Công Trứ), and the grandmother has returned to her ancestors. She has lived a full life. The incense still lingers, bearing witness to the deep reverence and admiration of the poet for his grandmother. A sense of regret echoes through the poem, causing Nguyễn Duy to grow in soul and thought. Readers admire his poetry, not only for his talent but for his sincere heart.

The poem concludes with the closing of a human life: “She became nothing but a handful of grass.” The words evoke an immense silence. She has passed on peacefully, blending into the green grass. But this is the horror of preciousness. Every grandmother, every mother sacrifices for life in their own way, but all share the love in their hearts.

“Living in death, buried in sand,

hearts like jewels, shining brightly” (Mẹ Tơm – Tố Hữu)

The last two lines of the poem "Đò Lèn" capture the poet’s emotional state. He wants to express his gratitude and love for his grandmother, but "the words are hidden behind the veil of the heart" (Kiều – Nguyễn Du). The poem ends, and the sorrow rises within the poet’s soul.

To better understand the poet and this poem, we should read more of his verses dedicated to his parents and grandparents, written in simple, sincere words that express a deep, lingering sadness:

“Hey straw, I return to you,

bowing to the spirits of the village,

Grandmother and mother have become storks and herons,

Father and grandfather are like oxen tilling the fields” (Returning to the field)

Sometimes the poet relates poetry to life, as if to remind himself:

“I dream of the sky,

while my father tills the earth, unfinished.”

He reminds everyone to honor the past:

“Grandmother nurtures mother, mother nurtures child,

will you remember tomorrow?”

With that sense of emotion, "Đò Lèn" carries the poet’s deep reverence for the spirit of the village. The poem can be seen as a prayer, a tribute the poet offers to his grandmother. When you read it, you feel the weight of remembrance and nostalgia in every line: “Poetry is not just literature; it is the essence of the soul” (Tố Hữu).

Nguyen Duy is a poet who has made significant contributions to Vietnamese literature. Having lost both parents at an early age, his deep emotions about his childhood resonate closely with him throughout his life. This connection to his past served as a powerful inspiration for his poem 'Đò Lèn.'

During one visit back to his homeland, the author was flooded with memories of his childhood. He recalled vivid moments spent beside a warm fire, and images of living with his grandmother. These memories stirred a mixture of joy and sadness in him, creating a complex blend of emotions.

The poem opens with the poet's deep longing, an ache for the past that stirs his heart, a powerful sense of nostalgia. In the early verses, the young Duy is portrayed as a playful child, engaged in popular folk games. Whether fishing or catching sparrows, these lively scenes from his childhood are infused with joy and meaning, reflecting his happiness in those moments.

Among these memories, fragrant flowers of the lily mix with the scent of incense wafting through the air at the Tran Temple. The author reflects on the passage of time, recalling moments that now exist only as memories, woven together with images of his love for his childhood:

As a child, I went to Na Canal to catch fish,

held my grandmother’s skirt to go to the market in Binh Lam,

caught sparrows near the statue of Buddha,

and sometimes stole lychees from Tran Temple.

As a child, I visited Cây Thị Temple,

walked barefoot at night to attend the Sòng Temple ceremony,

the smell of white lilies mixed with fragrant incense,

the performance of folk songs swaying with the medium's movements.

These images come alive in the poet’s soul, whimsical and charming, enveloping a boundless space, immersing him in the pleasures of folk traditions through captivating stories. They evoke sweet emotions about his childhood.

Other memories emerge, depicting peaceful and serene places where the poet once lived. His joy was in connecting with these surroundings, and his memories of them are filled with longing. Through these images, the poet paints a picture of his childhood rhythms and gentle, heartfelt nostalgia.

These memories also stir a deep sense of longing in us. The images of his childhood have become etched in his mind. Countless sacred memories of his grandmother, who raised him after he lost his parents, also live on in his heart:

I never knew my grandmother lived such a hard life,

She fished for crabs and prawns in Quan Field,

She carried green tea from Ba Trai,

Sold porridge at Đồng Giao on cold nights.

The poet's memories of his grandmother depict a hardworking woman, struggling throughout her life to support her grandchild. Despite their hardships, she persevered, tirelessly working to care for him. The image of her determination stays with the poet, deeply engraved in his spirit.

In the cold winds, she would walk tirelessly, sometimes catching fish to support him. These memories of his grandmother bring the poet back to their shared moments, making him reflect deeply on her life and the sacrifices she made for him.

Many details in the poem convey the poet’s longing and the overwhelming emotions stirred within him. His heart aches for his grandmother, and this longing inspires him with a sense of faith and hope to honor her memory.

These memories also create a powerful impression in the poet’s soul. The images are beautiful, compelling, and deeply moving. They evoke attention and an emotional depth that is profound for the poet. Even through the difficulties and trials of life, his grandmother's quiet sacrifices remain an essential, magical force in his life.

The poet envisions even more vivid images—imbued with wonder and reflective of the extraordinary aspects of past generations:

The American bomb dropped, my grandmother’s house was destroyed,

Sòng Temple fell, the whole temple was wiped out,

Where did the saints and Buddha go?

My grandmother sold eggs at the Lèn station.

I became a soldier, not returning home for a long time,

The old river still flows, eroding and depositing its banks,

When I realized my love for my grandmother, it was too late,

Now, she is but a patch of grass.

The poet’s emotions come through strongly, expressing the deep regret of lost time. He feels a deep sorrow, longing for the days when he could still be with his grandmother. The imagery is both poignant and vivid, underscoring the poet's sense of loss, as he recalls his childhood and his grandmother’s life.

One of the most profound feelings of sorrow in the poem is the realization of time lost. Everyone has childhood memories, and the poet’s vivid recollections allow us all to reflect on our own pasts. His memories of his grandmother and childhood are portrayed in a deeply moving, concrete way. The poet's sense of loss leaves a strong imprint on his heart.

The regret expressed in the poem echoes deeply, highlighting the poet's feelings of missed opportunities. These vivid and emotional images stir a powerful sense of nostalgia, urging us to cherish the present moments, knowing that once they pass, they will never return.

The poet’s poignant sorrow for what has been lost—particularly the opportunity to repay his grandmother’s love—echoes throughout the poem. The memory of his grandmother, once so vivid and real, now exists only as a grave. This sorrow compels the poet to reflect on the importance of living fully in the present moment, so that we may avoid the regret of unexpressed gratitude.

The bond between the poet and his grandmother is beautifully expressed in this work, an enduring sentiment from the poet’s heart.

Nguyễn Duy wrote the poem "Đò Lèn" in September 1983, which was later published in the poetry collection "Ánh Trăng" in 1984. The poem contains two lines with seven syllables, one line with nine syllables, and the remaining thirty-two lines with eight syllables each.

The verses follow one another in a reflective, emotional tone. The familiar landmarks of the beloved homeland, which once touched the soul of the author in his childhood, are recalled with deep affection: Đò Lèn, Cống Na, Chợ Bình Lâm, Chùa Trần, Đền Cây Thị, Đền Sòng, Ba Trại,...

The image of the poor, hardworking, and kind grandmother is vividly recreated in simple yet powerful verses. Nguyễn Duy, who was orphaned at a young age, grew up under the care and love of his grandmother, which explains the authenticity and emotional depth in his words. As the poem progresses, the tone becomes more poignant, filled with longing for his grandmother.

The first two stanzas recount the childhood memories of a poor boy who loved to play and be mischievous: fishing at Cống Na, going with his grandmother to Chợ Bình Lâm, catching sparrows near the Buddha statue, and sometimes "stealing lychees from Chùa Trần". Simple lines, like spoken words, evoke a sense of innocence and playfulness of a young boy in a rural village:

"holding grandmother’s skirt to go to Chợ Bình Lâm

catching sparrows near the Buddha's ear

and sometimes stealing lychees from Chùa Trần".

He also recalls "visiting Đền Cây Thị". Despite coming from a poor family, he was eager to join the festive season, walking through the night to attend Đền Sòng festival. "Đền Sòng, the holiest place in Thanh region" (Tản Đà), located near Ninh Bình, yet the boy still braved the journey to experience the ritual. The fragrance of white lilies, incense smoke, the folk songs, and the dance of the medium deeply embedded in Nguyễn Duy's childhood memory:

"the scent of white lilies mingled with fragrant incense smoke

the folk song swaying with the medium’s dance".

The word "swaying" captures the essence of the medium often seen at traditional festivals. Nguyễn Duy frequently refers to the pure white lilies and their scent as a symbol of his soul’s purity. He recalls the lilies placed on his mother’s altar:

"The scent of lilies fills the night

incense smoke marks the path to Nirvana".

(Sitting in silence, remembering my mother)

In "Đò Lèn", the poet also mentions twice:

the scent of white lilies, mingled with fragrant incense...

I can still smell the white lilies, the incense scent...

The allure and haunting nature of the poem "Đò Lèn" lies in the portrayal of the grandmother. She is Nguyễn Duy's maternal figure. Regretful, he quietly reproaches himself for not recognizing her hardships sooner: "I didn’t know how difficult life was for my grandmother". Coming from a poor family, she worked hard, "searching for crabs and catching shrimp" at Đồng Quan to buy rice for the family. She carried heavy baskets of green tea from Ba Trại, crossing long and rugged paths, enduring the cold nights with aching feet. Her back was bent from carrying bamboo baskets. With every step, she bore the hardships of life. She embodied the sacrifice, resilience, and fortitude of Vietnamese women, the unsung heroines of life. Nguyễn Duy poured all his love and gratitude toward her in his verses:

"I didn’t know how difficult life was for my grandmother"

"She searched for crabs, caught shrimp at Đồng Quan"

"She carried tea from Ba Trại"

"At Cháo, Đồng Giao, stumbling through cold nights".

During famine years, she would give up her share of boiled cassava to her grandson. In the sweetness of the cassava, the boy "could sense" the fragrance of white lilies and incense. Nguyễn Duy uses the scent of lilies and incense as metaphors for the immense, infinite love of his grandmother. She was kind, with a pure, innocent soul. Her devotion to the gods and her compassion were embodied in her every action. The grandson, living under her tender care, understood her heart and soul:

"I am transparent between the realms of illusion and reality

Between my grandmother and the gods, the Buddhas, and saints".

Amidst the wars and devastation that destroyed his grandmother’s home, even as "the saints and the Buddhas disappeared", she remained steadfast in life, continuing to struggle and survive: "My grandmother sold eggs at Lèn station". This image of the grandmother is grounded and vivid, representing the universal image of every grandmother in Vietnam. The final lines express the grandson’s sorrow when he stands before his grandmother’s grave:

"I joined the army and didn’t return home for a long time"

The old river still meanders, its banks eroded and rebuilt"

"When I finally understood, it was too late"

"My grandmother is now just a mound of grass".

The harmonious blend of emotion and philosophy in the poem creates a deep resonance. The "old river" refers to Chu River, Mã River, and Đò Lèn River. The years of war are behind, and the homeland is peaceful and changing, becoming more beautiful. The verse "the old river still meanders, its banks eroded and rebuilt" symbolizes the ebb and flow of life and the changes in the homeland.

The final line, "my grandmother is now just a mound of grass", reflects on the fleeting nature of human life within the endless flow of time and the universe. Nguyễn Duy’s lines are filled with melancholy, evoking a sense of impermanence, akin to the lines of Nguyễn Gia Thiều in "Cung oán ngâm khúc":

"What remains after a hundred years?

Just a patch of green grass".

Though his grandmother has passed, her love and selflessness will forever remain with the family.

"Đò Lèn" is a remarkable poem by Nguyễn Duy. Together with "Bếp Lửa" by Bằng Việt, it is a beautiful tribute to the beloved grandmother, a symbol of the deep-rooted love for family and homeland. The poet’s references to over ten places make the poem even more meaningful, enhancing the theme of filial love and a deep connection to the homeland. "Đò Lèn" is a moving piece of literature, evoking memories of the poet’s childhood as a soldier.