Top 10 Best Essays About Sunrise

The dawn had just broken, dew drops still clinging to the leaves and flowers. The sounds of birds chattered, encircling the first rays of the morning sun, casting its light over the misty, ethereal veil… On the terraced fields hugging the hills, golden strips of rice intertwined in layers, gleaming brighter than sunlight. Twisting like great dragons, they spiraled their way up to the mountain peaks. The entire region of Mù Cang Chải was bathed in the warm glow of the early morning sun. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting patterns, as golden rays dyed millions of rice plants, which swayed with the wind’s gentle rhythm. The mischievous autumn breeze danced with the sunrise, splashing vibrant colors over the golden fields of Mù Cang Chải.

Suddenly, the wind swept across the fields, embracing the ripening rice, teasing the mountains, urging the clouds to descend closer, until they hovered just above the golden rice terraces. The fragrance of rice mingled with the crisp autumn air, drifting far away, creating a sweet and fragrant journey. The whole of Northwest Vietnam seemed like a beautiful painting with the finest aromas of the deep forests.

It was 6:30 AM when An woke up. She stretched and took a deep breath, her chest expanding with comfort. The cool morning air filled the room. Stepping out the door, she gazed far into the distance, where soon, she would meet Huy, her foster brother, and the old lady who would guide her to La Pán Tẩn to make her dream come true. She wanted to capture the most beautiful moment of the golden season in Mù Cang Chải on her canvas. This place, often called the 'Heaven of Terraced Fields,' was a source of immense joy for her, as she watched the local people joyfully embrace the golden harvest, their hearts soaring above the terraces like 'the fingerprints of heaven.'

An found the sunrise here exceptionally beautiful. She believed that the sunlight was not just a force that brought life to everything on earth, but also an inspiration that made one realize how beautiful life truly is. Even if yesterday was dark, today would be different when the sunlight poured in... It was warm, it brought peace, and made her feel protected. An knew her time was limited... And the sunrise here nourished her fragile hope, giving her strength to live another day. Huy woke up when he heard An's footsteps at the door. She stood there, gazing at the distant hills, which too were greeting the dawn. She loved nature, especially the Northwest. A place where clouds wove together, where the sky gently drizzled with rain, and the earth and sky blended like an immortal realm. Once, she and Huy had climbed to Tà Xùa, chasing the clouds in their unique way with brushes, capturing the cloud patterns and the mountain hues on her canvas. She loved lying down on the “dinosaur spine,” looking up at the sky, stretching her arms high, and shouting, “I’ve reached Tà Xùa!”

She and Huy arrived in Mù Cang Chải the previous evening and were lucky to find a place to stay with an old H’mong lady near the La Pán Tẩn hill, as all the homestays were fully booked. An decided to spend the entire day in Mù Cang Chải to fulfill her dream.

Mù Cang Chải is the most remote district in Yên Bái province, located to the west, about 180 km from the center of Yên Bái. Most of its residents are H’mong people, with a population of nearly 64,000 spread over an area of 1,197.89 square kilometers. Mù Cang Chải is home to the most stunning terraced fields in the Northwest, including La Pán Tẩn, Tú Lệ, and Lìm Mông. Its beauty is most breathtaking from late September to early October, during the autumn harvest. Every year, a festival called 'Flying Over the Golden Season' is held, and Mù Cang Chải has become a National Intangible Cultural Heritage.

An cried uncontrollably like a child when she reached the summit of the hill. Unfolding her canvas, tears flowed freely as she painted, tracing the golden terraces of ripening rice. She felt happiness in her own, very personal way. Huy, deeply moved by the sight, turned away to hide the tears that were welling up inside him… Could it be that when one knows their days are numbered, they wish to preserve the most beautiful moments, by any means necessary? He let out a sigh, like the melancholy notes of a H’mong flute in the quiet of the moment.

Mù Cang Chải is nestled between two mountain ridges, with peaceful villages. The mountains’ backs rest against the earth while the clouds kiss the summits. The area is perpetually cool, enveloped in a sea of drifting mist. To reach this place, one must pass through Lào Cai, Sapa, the Ô Quy Hồ Pass, Tân Uyên, and Than Uyên before finally arriving in Mù Cang Chải. The old lady told An there are three paths to reach the La Pán Tẩn hill, all of them steep and difficult, especially in the rainy season when the roads become slippery, narrow, and treacherous. Most people use motorbikes to navigate these routes. She happily explained to An and Huy that Mù Cang Chải is called “Flying Over the Golden Season” because the first festival was held in 2013 and has since become an annual event. Organized by the VietWins Paragliding Club from Hanoi, it attracts many locals and tourists eager to experience the view of Mù Cang Chải from above, flying over the Lìm Mông valley, with golden rice fields floating in the sea of clouds during sunrise or the evening glow.

During harvest season, the rice does not ripen at the top of the hill, but starts from the bottom, turning golden all the way up, while the top remains green. The waves of terraces ripple across the landscape like the gentle flow of the ocean, hypnotizing anyone who gazes upon them. The golden rice stretches under the autumn sun like liquid gold.

At the La Pán Tẩn hilltop, An wondered who had created the terraced fields to give the rice a place to grow, allowing the autumn sunlight to warm the harvest. The terraced fields felt like warm shawls wrapping around the mountains, with the golden rice dangling like threads of gold, pushing back the clouds. The scenery was vast and boundless, painted against the clear sky, with a sea of golden rice curving in powerful, majestic arcs, and the sound of rivers flowing nearby, forming the perfect picture of the golden season in the Northwest.

Though An could not travel all over Mù Cang Chải due to her health, there were times when her mouth tasted bitter, and she had to motivate herself to drink and eat a little more to complete the journey of her life. She had braved the steep, dangerous mountains to reach this place, wishing she had more strength and time to capture the beauty of the Northwest, a land filled with love and warmth, to immortalize it on her beloved canvas, a canvas that would forever open to love.

Though she had not had the chance to taste Tú Lệ sticky rice, free-range chicken, or local pork, she still longed to go, to love, to remember, and to carve the love into her heart. The golden sunrise of Mù Cang Chải, La Pán Tẩn hill, Pú Nhu Falls, Lìm Mông, and Xán Nhù hill, places known as the 'legendary photography spots' for photographers, would remain as the places where An left her footprints. A soft smile spread across her face as she thought of this. Despite knowing that her illness could take her life at any time, she was happy to have witnessed the sunrise here, to feel the peace in her heart, and to see the people’s joy as they celebrated the golden harvest.

An held her completed painting tightly, smiling with quiet satisfaction. Suddenly, Huy saw the light of faith and hope not just shining from the vibrant painting titled 'The Golden Dawn of Mù Cang Chải,' but also reflected in An’s pure eyes.

The sunset deepened into a rich purple, as if understanding An's heart, gently fading away... slowly, the last brightness of the day faded into the golden fields of Mù Cang Chải. An and Huy turned back in silence. The night began to settle, peaceful… millions of golden rice flowers lay heavy in sleep, as the fields waited for the harvest. The warm fragrance of rice filled the air, offering its nourishment to the people of this land, and to the morning sunrise. An believed that a part of the sky here would remain purple forever… forever, because of the love she had left behind.

Lê Minh

One morning, waking up in the old house, I instinctively stepped out onto the porch. The early sunlight streamed through my eyes, delicate like smoke, scattering tiny sparkling dust particles dancing in the sunbeam. The dawn had arrived quietly, and I could feel the warmth of the sun gently bathing my skin. The sunlight stretched across the floor, cast upon the jagged-edged leaves, and lightly kissed the dew-covered bougainvillea flowers. The sunlight painted a variety of shapes—rectangles, squares, circles, streaks like comet tails, hearts, and stars without enough points... I reached out my hand to catch the sunlight, my fingers dancing with the playful shadows, gently tracing the light on the old brick wall. I chased after the rays that fell upon the porch, laying down to let the coolness seep into my skin.

A cool sensation from the earth seeped into my flesh and heart, as the childhood within me stretched out in the body of a thirty-five-year-old woman, her face marked with deep wrinkles. Ah, age and wrinkles are just evidence of mental growth, yet the soul forever clings to the innocence of childhood, yearning to return to that pure place. To soothe the pain of the cracks in my bare feet, caused by years of hardship. And to let my heart be bathed in the peaceful, refreshing stream of life.

I love dawn not only because of those moments spent counting the rays of light on the porch, watching my elderly parents do their morning exercises in the flower-filled yard. I love it because the world is washed clean by the night’s mist, removing the dust of yesterday, refreshing the road, the grass, the trees, and the quiet lanes. And the sun, the morning sun, so pure and clear, dries the dew from the grass, bringing in a new, pure, and refreshing day. It makes me feel innocent and true, a quiet self beneath the many masks we wear in life, full of calculations, hesitation, and deep thought.

The dawn begins and the crickets in the fields start their song, symbolizing the timeless love for the earth that will endure forever. Despite the clamor of passing vehicles, it only lasts for a brief moment, while the crickets in the corner of the garden continue their soft murmurs, as they have for centuries. People may live in a rush, yet every new dawn, as the mist lifts, they are still amazed by the sunrise, whether from a hotel or a street corner. It’s that single, precious moment when the hidden self is awakened and cleansed. To live as our true selves, in that rare, fleeting moment.

The trees will bathe in the cool mist, sleep beneath the pale moon, listening to the insects singing. Then, in the morning, they stretch their branches and leaves, swaying softly in the breeze. The first rays of light will dry the old, brown bark, caress the soft branches, and kiss the buds. The sunlight will dance upon every branch, awakening the symphony of photosynthesis as the trees gather the light, cooling the vast space around them. Even if yesterday brought storms and thunder, the morning always follows, bringing new life as the young buds peek out, gazing at the distant horizon. The wind whispers softly, ‘The sun has risen, the new light is here.’ The clouds, like a delicate silk, embrace the golden rays that fall from the sky.

And I will quietly step barefoot into the sunshine on the porch, as if playing, chasing the ever-changing patterns of light. My father will call out, reminding me that I’m no longer a child, but still, I run around, teasing the shadows. The neighbors will smile and tease me. My mother will look at me affectionately in the light, her face full of love. ‘Look, you’ve grown heavier than your grandmother now,’ my father will joke. ‘You can still carry her, though,’ and my mother will laugh, ‘You’re still my little girl, always teasing the sun on the porch.’ There I am, my braided hair, wide innocent eyes, smiling with the sun. For a brief moment, peace fills my heart, and childhood visits my soul. My parents smile, and the dawn feels extraordinarily pure, as sunlight gently rests on my feet, warming me softly, as if I could step into it forever.

The porch, bathed in sunlight, seems to glow as the shadows of the bougainvillea flowers are carved onto the wall. The flowers in my eyes have turned bright pink, just like a heart breaking with love. All this time, it’s been the same—the bougainvillea blooms with the sun, while I, I continue to change. I grow older, meeting new people, forgetting some along the way. Some join me in greeting the morning sun, while others leave me behind in the vast distance. But I, too, have changed. The love I give is not always eternal, as the months and years flow by. Yet, no matter where I go, the warmth of the home and the love of my family remains constant. Every morning, when the peace of the day settles in, I stand still, gazing at the dawn, feeling the sunlight’s embrace on my face. The sun will once again paint the patterns of bougainvillea upon the wall.

Today’s dawn, a cool and crisp autumn morning, brings the sun softly to the porch, continuing the ancient dance of light and love. The sun reminds me that another new day has begun, and within me, a new spark of life stirs. A new love will grow, just as the sun kisses my skin, warming me with its gentle affection. The sunlight caresses my cheeks, whispering, ‘Yesterday is gone, little one. All the joys and sorrows have vanished like the clouds. Live this new day slowly, savoring the warmth of love that fills your heart.’

I walk lightly on the porch, the sunlight dancing around me. I embrace the soft warmth, as new love rises within me, flooding my soul!

Trần Hiền

Morning is always the softest and most peaceful moment of the day. As the first rays of sunlight appear, the world gradually materializes through the misty veil. The air, purified by the night, feels cool and refreshing. The morning breeze is gentle, barely stirring the dew droplets as they fall to the earth. Everything begins to awaken.

You can hear a distant rooster crowing. The sound of people and vehicles growing busier. The rustling of leaves greeting the dawn. The sun rises slowly, its light piercing through the clouds. The early light is still soft and kind, far from the harsh midday heat.

The morning sunlight is not as bold as the evening's fiery glow. There are no vibrant hues of green, red, or orange—only a gentle, tranquil beauty. The sky in the early morning holds a pure serenity, the clouds catching the first light, tinged with a soft pink. The rays break through the layers of clouds, fluffy like cotton. Nature understands the human soul. The mornings that begin the new day are always as gentle and kind as this.

Don’t let such magical early moments slip away. Wake up a little earlier. Pull back the curtains, open the window to let in the fresh air and morning sunlight. Do a few stretches to wake up your body, prepare a light breakfast. No rushing, no hurry. Imagine how much better a day would begin like this, instead of waking up in a haze, fighting through traffic, and arriving at work drained.

Your body needs food every day. And your mind also needs to be refreshed regularly. It’s good that people are becoming more aware of physical health, but there’s more to focus on. Pay a little more attention to your mental health. A healthy, sharp mind. A strong, clear, and vibrant spirit. This will lead to a more complete life, no matter who you are, what you do, or how your life looks.

Happiness doesn’t come from wealth. It’s not about being famous or admired. You’ve probably heard this many times. Just take a moment to observe. You’ll realize that whether it’s a powerful president or a beggar on the street, they’re all subject to fate, to the cycle of birth, aging, illness, and death. No one escapes.

So, give yourself the gift of mornings that are pure and clean. Move gently through life, no matter how busy you get, always take time to feed your soul with the healing medicine of peace and relaxation. With deep reflections on life.

Promise yourself, before leaving the house, that once you step through that door, no matter what lies beyond—sunshine or rain—you’ll walk forward calmly, embracing peace.

Chay Mộc

The dawn breaks brightly on the horizon, the ocean shimmering like a mirror reflecting silver light. My heart no longer feels weary from the chaotic emotions of the world. I lift my gaze to the clear, beautiful sky, and the last tear finally ceases to fall, merging with the waves gently lapping against the shore. Time relentlessly passes, leaving the innocence of youth behind. So carelessly, even my breath becomes hurried. My feet still stand on the edge of happiness, constantly evading the judgmental eyes of society. But deep within, there lies a moment of peace, hidden beneath the harsh realities of life.

It turns out that God doesn’t make things fair for anyone; it’s up to each individual to persist, to search for love in others and in themselves. Is this tiring? Yes, because without such persistence, the beating of my heart would lose its meaning. Yet, at this moment, I crave stillness amidst the bustling city, to quiet my mind and reflect on the past. Perhaps I will find a new path, a right turn in the ongoing journey of life.

Looking out over the vast sea, I realize that its vastness can contain all of my sorrows. Though I am small against its enormity, I still long to be like a sunflower, bravely chasing the harsh rays of the sun, so I can stand brightly among the many flowers. Only then will I have no regrets, no worries about the hardships that life throws my way.

Each day that passes is a series of connected moments, as everything changes to survive. We don’t truly understand ourselves, so the only way to know is to search within. I will gradually adapt to the different facets of society, while keeping the dignity that even the harshest realities cannot break. I will transform that into my guiding belief, so that I do not miss a single precious moment in life. Because I know that even the smallest good things always come to us unexpectedly.

Each time the dawn arrives, I greet the new day with a simple smile, listening to the sounds of life and gazing at the sky with an open heart. The future is unpredictable, but I cherish the present, savoring all that I have right now. Later, I’ll spend a few hours at the beach, watching the sunset and feeling the fleeting moment of the day’s end. Much like the twilight of life, it is in these moments that we realize the true value of existence. We meet many people, face many challenges, but the key is not to lose the innocence we once wished for in our youth.

Yesterday hasn’t gone anywhere. It still lingers with your joys and sorrows, waiting to reveal itself when you turn around. Yet, the future is always there, waiting for you to step forward and conquer it.

- Hoàn -

They say that the rooster's crow is what awakens the dawn, signaling the beginning of a new day. It seems the rooster serves as a natural alarm, preventing anyone from 'sleeping through life' while reminding us that the new dawn of our lives is always ahead… An endless spring of life that flows from the roots of our homeland.

After twenty years, my siblings and I finally had the chance to return to our rural home, the place where we spent many years working hard. On that first morning, as the cool mist hung in the air, my sister greeted me with a distant, wistful gaze: “Here, in the mornings, you can always hear the rooster crowing!” It felt as though that crowing was awakening the sacred memories of her childhood. But in all those years in the city, she never once mentioned how much she missed home…

Then, I recalled a story about a rooster belonging to a neighbor. He had a young child who adored chickens. One day, he brought home a rooster, vibrant in color and elegant in its strangeness. Every morning, his child and the neighborhood kids would rush to greet the rooster, laughing and playing with it. Meanwhile, the adults in the neighborhood grumbled, complaining about the rooster’s loud crowing: “That rooster’s sick! It’s too loud! We can’t sleep!”

Once, after returning from a trip, the man noticed the silence. The rooster wasn’t crowing. He thought it had run away, only to find that it had ended up… in a pot of soup! A stone thrown by a neighbor had shattered its skull. The rooster, like all things, could not survive the crack. His son cried for an entire month. Every time the rooster’s crow echoed, he would sob again…

Last year, during the Lunar New Year, my brother, who now lives in America, told me about an old friend of his who had left the country to seek his fortune. One morning, while driving to work early, he suddenly heard a rooster crow. Oh, how it stirred his heart with a longing for home.

When he returned home, he told his children about the rooster, about the river, the rice fields, the temple, the animals, and the countryside that had been left behind for so many years. His children, born in America, had never known these things. They were curious and eager to hear the rooster crow, just as he had described.

That morning, the family parked quietly near a house where a rooster crowed. They waited… and waited… Then, the rooster crowed… “Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!” His children looked at him with surprise and joy. He felt tears well up in his eyes, realizing he was giving them something sacred and beautiful, a part of their heritage that he had longed to share.

But as time went on, his children grew tired of the rooster’s crowing. They found other distractions. Only he remained, silently waiting, listening, and quietly shedding tears alone.

Today, I understood that the rooster’s call had awakened my sister’s buried memories. The rooster’s crow serves to greet the dawn of a new day, a reminder that life’s new dawn is always ahead… An eternal spring, forever flowing from the roots of our homeland.

Nguyễn Thanh Xuân

One day, I suddenly realized that my sleep had become like an old, worn-out journal. It had absorbed all the worries and troubles from the day before. I wrote them down, erased them, crossed them out, and rewrote them—until they piled up and tangled together, leaving me tired and drained when I woke up.

On the streets, I noticed the empty, lifeless eyes of strangers waiting at the traffic lights I passed every morning. In fact, every traffic signal has three colors, but we only focus on the red one—the most haunting, the most challenging, like a large stone we must climb over each morning in our desperate need for sleep. At this moment, everyone probably wishes today were a Saturday, so they could sleep in. But if life consisted only of weekends, how would we ever meet the dawn each day?

Back home, my mother called to remind me to pick up some food she had sent through the delivery service. Women always show their love through adding a little extra to your life, while my father was colder, simply telling me: "Why don't you wake up earlier and get to work?" My father and I belong to two different generations. He was from the bicycle, water flask, fan, radio era—how could he understand the 4.0 generation?

But one day, the whole neighborhood lost power, and I had to go to bed early, listening to the hum of mosquitoes. It was only after I lay down that I remembered I had forgotten to close the curtains. Outside, the soft glow of the streetlight reflected off the window. That moonlight reminded me of the days back home. By now, my older brother must have already had a good night's sleep. A farmer has his own natural clock, a way of thinking that is different. Now that we are both middle-aged, my brother looks at me with understanding and says: "The way you live, it's not quite normal." The word "not normal" actually made sense. I work in real estate, where the market thrives on the unpredictability of housing prices. When showing clients an apartment, I always end with the line: "If you live here, you'll get to see the dawn before the whole city does…"

I remember when I was a child, my brother and I would wake up early on days without rain. We would run to the hilltop, watch the sun rise behind the rocks, and then rush back to brush our teeth and wash our faces. That became a habit until I went off to school and left home. I still recall the first time, when I was 4 or 5, I asked him why we always had to go to the hill to watch the sun rise. He smiled and said, "I've made a promise." "A promise to whom?" I asked. "A promise to the dawn…"

A child grows up by believing in the things they are told are true. But as we grow older, we forget those stories. Yet, when we reach middle age, we want to believe in the tales of our childhood once again. I woke up this morning, with the curtains drawn, and my dreams were not tainted by worries and fears. I felt light and at ease.

It was almost 5 AM. I glanced at the clock and suddenly remembered something. I quickly grabbed my jacket, took my keys, and ran to the car.

When I reached home, the sun had not yet risen. My hometown is not far from the city, but it is nestled between the mountains. I ran up the hill and found my brother already there, waiting. Around him were my nieces and nephews, their awkward, gangly bodies like my brother and me when we were their age. Together, we watched the dawn. This morning, I had returned to our beloved hillside to greet the dawn, just as we had promised all those years ago…

Essay by Bùi Việt Phương

After countless nights of staying up late, or rather, when the ticking of the clock in the quiet of the night signals the arrival of a new day, I would finally put down my phone and drift into a weary sleep, waking up the next morning groggy as the first rays of dawn pierced through the leaves. I no longer remembered the last time I woke up to greet the morning.

Then one day, something unusual happened. In the depths of my slumber, I heard the sound of birds chirping. Before I could fully slip back into sleep, a delicate fragrance floated into my room, waking me up. The scent was fresh like the early morning sun, yet soft like a breeze; it felt both unfamiliar and oddly familiar.

I stepped outside barefoot, and the fragrance became clearer. Sitting on the front steps, the coolness of the tiled floor fully woke me. It turned out that the scent that had roused me was from the pots of orchids and sweet-smelling wildflowers blooming in the garden. That’s when I noticed my mother had already woken up, preparing to go to the market. I absentmindedly asked, “The flowers smell wonderful this morning, don’t they, Mom?” She replied, “Oh, it’s summer; the flowers bloom so richly, and every morning they smell like this. You’re the only one who finds it special, I think today’s the first time you’ve woken up early. Now that you’re up, go sweep the yard while I run to the market to buy some crabs or clams for soup. It’s going to be a hot day today.”

I nodded in response but remained seated on the steps, not in a hurry to stand because I was still savoring the peace of the morning, a peace I had long forgotten. I looked up at the starfruit tree in the yard, where a family of sparrows was busy hopping from branch to branch—so joyful and content.

Then I was distracted by something else. It was the sound of a bird calling, growing louder, clearer, and coming from the hill behind the house. It had been so long since I had heard that peculiar bird song. Suddenly, I remembered my grandmother and the story she once told me about the bird that made that unique call. As a child, I don’t know how many times I heard her tell the story. But after a long while, I hadn’t heard that bird’s melancholic song behind the house anymore. And now, unexpectedly, on this early morning, I heard the familiar call once again. Perhaps that bird had returned long ago, and I simply hadn’t noticed.

Lost in thought, I heard the voices of the women returning from the market, chatting as they walked down the street. In my village, people still maintain the tradition of going to the market very early. Whether it’s winter or summer, once the sky lightens, the market-goers gather. Sellers and buyers bustle around, and within an hour, the market is nearly empty. The advantage of going early is that you can buy the freshest shrimp, fish, and vegetables brought straight from the boats by the fishermen, as well as affordable bananas and green tea from local farmers.

Taking a deep breath to fully enjoy the calm morning scent, I stretched and stood up, hearing the bones in my body crack. At my age, I can’t claim to be old, but I’m certainly no longer young enough to boast about being able to bend a cow’s horn. It struck me then—I had even forgotten my habit of getting up early to run a few laps around the village. I thought about it and realized I had neglected so many things!

After sweeping the yard, I went back inside and noticed it was just past 6 AM. Waking up early really allowed me to do so much more. Looking back, I realized I wasn’t as busy as I had always thought. In fact, I had been making excuses for my own laziness and lack of discipline. It was like a light bulb went off in my head. I knew I needed to bring back some of the good habits I had abandoned, starting with waking up early to enjoy those peaceful mornings.

KHÁNH LỘC

Even at our most exhausted or happiest moments, we all desire to witness the dawn, for DAWN represents the brightest, most radiant light—seemingly the most beautiful thing in the universe.

That sunlight is not only the source of life for everything on this earth but also a source of inspiration for us, reminding us that life is beautiful. Whether it’s a dark night or a troubled yesterday, today is different as the sun rises...

The DAWN always gives us a sense of peace, as though we are being protected.

The DAWN over a lake or the ocean might be the most beautiful, for it is there that we can fully appreciate the brilliance of DAWN when it reveals all its colors, reflecting on the water like a mirror showcasing its most magnificent hues.

It begins when the sun first rises, glowing red in the early morning, gradually transitioning to golden and orange, like the color of an egg yolk... Then, as the light filters through the blue clouds, they turn purple... and as the sun climbs higher, the blending of colors becomes more apparent... until the sunlight has enough power to illuminate the world, making the sea or the lake feel like it's been sprinkled with a golden layer, with colors shimmering like never before...

Perhaps the two most beautiful moments of any day are the SUNSET and the DAWN.

The SUNSET is beautiful but subdued and melancholic, always leaving the viewer with a sense of longing, for it marks the end of the day when the sun sets...

But DAWN brings with it a vibrant, life-filled energy. In that moment, I always long to witness it, to feel its vitality spreading within me, while the peace it brings fills me with excitement to begin a new day, believing in a brighter life ahead.

For when we gaze at DAWN, it is also when our shadow is left behind, and all our worries are left in the past...

In the presence of DAWN, it feels as if time stands still because DAWN is timeless, forever bright...

Lê Minh

Every morning, while others are still sound asleep, it rides its old bicycle down the road. By 5:30 AM, it arrives at work, starts up the machine, and opens all the windows wide to greet the new day with the dawn.

The summers in the North are scorching, burning your skin. The winters are bone-chilling, drying your face to the point of cracking, and wrapped up in layers, everyone looks as round as bears. It’s cold, but the winter dawn here is truly wonderful. In the early morning, a thin mist like silk lingers between the trees, and the leaves don’t yet want to wake up. Everything is still asleep in that light, white mist. Only when the sun rises, red like a copper bowl, and wraps the world in its warm embrace... that’s when the dawn truly begins.

For some reason, it always loves watching the dawn. It never tires of it. It sets a chair by the small window, silently observing the changing skies. From the first light of day, when the world is still unclear, to when the sun lifts the cloud blanket and emerges from its warm bed. What could be more peaceful than the dawn of a new day? What could be more gentle than the early morning sunshine? The light dances on every leaf, sweeping away the mist and playfully touching the ground, creating sparkling, ethereal patterns of sunlight. It loves watching the clear blue sky, the fluffy white clouds drifting by in strange shapes. It admires the sun, hiding and appearing again, casting soft golden rays across the world. It marvels at the dew drops hanging on the leaves. Simple things, yet they captivate it so much that every morning, it sits by that window, lost in the drifting clouds. The sky constantly shifts; just a few steps away, and it’s like a different scene, almost like a gentle, peaceful film. It’s so enchanted that it always has to grab its old phone to capture every moment of the dawn.

At forty, the world seems less romantic. It’s not as dreamy or as full of passion as it once was. But there are still moments like this that are worth savoring. It has experienced enough of life’s flavors. Now, it finds happiness in the small things… “Contentment brings peace to the heart.” Though life isn’t rich, it’s content and at peace. All it hopes for is to wake up every morning, open the window, and watch the dawn light up the new day with a heart full of calm.

“Thank you, life, for every morning
Granting us another day to love.”

Huế Phương

My day usually starts early, so I leave the house by 5:30 AM. On my way to work, I often observe the people around me who, like me, are already up and about. I realize that life at dawn is just as busy. Though the streets aren’t crowded, there’s still a flurry of activity with various professions and people going about their day.

One time, as I crossed a flyover, I saw the first rays of dawn piercing through the clouds. The light was weak but made the sky glow. That fleeting moment of beauty, like a masterpiece, captivated me. I wanted to stop and fully absorb it. If only I could paint, I would have included that scene in my own canvas.

A new feeling, a new hope rose within me. I thought of how the first rays of the dawn signify a new day ahead, much like the future that lies before each of us. No matter how difficult yesterday was, it belongs to the past. Today is different, today has begun, and things will change. It’s a fresh start, full of hope, new ideas, and creativity. It’s the beginning of change, the realization that we can continue, and trust the path we’ve chosen. Maybe today won’t bring success, maybe the results won’t be as expected, but that doesn’t mean the future is set in stone. What matters is whether we can look forward with confidence, whether we can rise after each fall, and continue walking on a winding road.

Life goes on, the sun will rise tomorrow, and tomorrow will be another day—a day that represents the future. So, as long as we do our best today, things will change. Mistakes will happen, there will be setbacks and challenges, but as long as we rise and move forward, life will transform, and the future will change. Everything we do today is the key, the foundation, for tomorrow. Therefore, if we strive and continue improving ourselves, I believe tomorrow will be a bright new day.

Today, I truly experienced dawn in a new way, even though it was just for a brief moment. The instant I saw the sun slowly rising, the first rays sneaking through the clouds, I was utterly amazed. To me, it was stunning. I don’t remember the last time I took the time to admire the dawn, to appreciate the natural beauty the world had given us. I felt a tinge of regret inside. Perhaps the hustle and bustle of life had carried me too far away. And I wonder how many others, like me, have missed out on these beautiful moments of nature and the precious time spent with loved ones.

As I watched that dawn moment, the worries in my heart resurfaced. I started to worry about my future, the path I’ve chosen, and the unforeseen challenges that may arise at any moment. Is the path I’m on the right one? Is it the ultimate destination in my life? Sometimes it feels so vague, so distant. There have been times when I felt the loss of confidence and feared failure—that this path wasn’t meant for me. I questioned who I would become tomorrow, and if I would regret the decisions I’ve made.

But in that instant, as I saw those first rays of light, I reignited the flame of hope within myself. I reminded myself that I still believe in tomorrow, that I will never give up no matter how difficult it may be. Whether the path is smooth or full of obstacles, the flame of belief in my heart will never die, no matter the storms life throws at me. And no matter how life changes or turns, I believe in my future. I believe that when the sun rises tomorrow, my life will bear fruit.

A new day is about to begin…

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