Top 10 Best Essays on Milk Flowers - Mytour.vn

The very name evokes sweetness and purity. The milk flower, leaning into the autumn streets, blooms around September and October, sometimes lingering until the early winter season. Unlike the delicate hidden beauty of the magnolia under its green canopy, the milk flower bursts into clusters, creating trees of pure white blossoms that greet passersby with their charming and unassuming presence.

The fragrance drifts gently with the wind, soft yet overwhelming, especially at night. If overwhelmed, one might feel slightly dizzy from the intensity of the scent. Some even argue about cutting down milk flowers along the streets, with one jokingly remarking, "If I dislike someone, I’ll just tie them to a milk flower tree." This playful remark highlights how the milk flower captivates with its moderate yet evocative fragrance that spreads with the breeze, balancing the cold air of seasonal transitions. It’s a fragrance full of longing, nostalgia, and warmth.

The milk flower is a symbol of love in poetry, music, and art. For musician Hồng Đăng, it evokes the familiar street corner where songs resonate in the heart. It brings back memories of a gentle time full of longing: "The milk flowers still sweeten the streets each night / Can you really forget me...?" For poet Nguyễn Phan Hách, the milk flower symbolizes a beautiful, budding love: "The scent of milk flowers on your dress and hair." The milk flower has witnessed a pure, passionate love that, despite its intensity, eventually fades when the love had not yet fully withered:

"Was it the moon, was it you or was it me?
Was it the coming winter that made the milk flowers fade?"

Each season of milk flowers reopens old wounds of love, carving deeper into the heart:

"The scent of milk flowers returns every time,
A reminder of a first love
Between two people who once loved each other."

...And for me, the milk flower, through the lines of poetry, has bound me to life in ways I cannot escape, urging me to write my scattered thoughts. I return to the streets, whenever the scent of milk flowers fills the air, I ride slowly by Hồ Thành, letting the breeze tousle my hair, feeling the milk flowers’ scent blow towards me, smiling as if I’ve found balance once again.

... And you, knowing I might unwittingly pluck a few branches, always remind me: "Flowers with sap in their branches are poisonous. Enjoy the milk flowers, but don’t pick them!" Though you are temporarily far from me, you send me clusters of the first milk flowers with a brief message: "I’m busy and haven’t had time to admire the flowers, but here’s some milk flowers from the net."

How could I not remember and love a flower that holds such layered memories?

Lê Thị Đáng

The scent of the night seems to draw the streets closer, spreading into the air, creating a gentle buzz in the stillness, making hearts stir when they encounter that fragrance. The fragrance of milk flowers lingers in each person's heart, evoking various moods and painting the streets with different hues. Yet, they all share the same peaceful, soothing, and graceful essence of Hanoi’s autumn night. The scent of the flowers blends with the coolness of the autumn air, gently touching every moss-covered tile, weaving into the thin scarf we hurriedly wrap around our necks, and blending quickly with the calls of vendors selling sticky rice, roasted sweet potatoes, and rice cakes – a warm aftertaste. This is the flavor of the night streets.

In the narrow streets of Hanoi, the silhouette of trees with their rough branches stretch upwards, like brushstrokes in the heart of the city. These natural strokes help shape Hanoi's timeless and hidden beauty. Golden streetlights pierce through the leaves, casting patchy murals on the pavement, in black and yellow hues that shimmer and stir. If it were just images, how could it paint the essence of a night filled with luxurious warmth? No one can forget the sensation of sipping a steaming cup of tea, the smoke curling upward, mingling with the faint taste of lotus from West Lake, and the distinct fragrance of the milk flowers filling the air. All these flavors compose a symphony of enchantment in the heart of the city. No wonder, people of all ages find joy in sipping tea at the small corner shops, letting themselves drift with the fragrance of the streets in the chilly autumn air of Hanoi.

As the sun sets, the bright lights radiate out, the flow of people thins, and the bustling sounds of the city seem to quiet down. The rush of the day recedes, leaving people to leisurely release the throttle, with bike wheels slowly turning on the painted streets. At this moment, the night’s fragrance becomes clearer, awakening our senses. Whether intentional or not, when the fragrance touches us, we instinctively breathe it in deeply. It might be the scent of milk flowers or tea, but they all spread throughout the atmosphere. The city at night is filled with a rich, intoxicating aroma. Yet, perhaps the most dominant and luxurious fragrance of Hanoi’s autumn night is the distinct scent of milk flowers. Anyone who loves the city can’t help but exclaim, 'What is that lovely fragrance!' They tilt their head under the trees, trying to identify it, but they can't quite put a name to it. Could it be the very essence of the city itself?

Late at night, a street cleaner finishes her work, and the vendor’s call to sell sticky rice echoes in the quiet night, bringing with it the weight of survival in every note. Many of us walk home through these sounds, leaving behind the rush of the day for the tranquility that the evening brings. The autumn air wraps itself in the fragrance of the city, and we can't help but breathe in that intoxicating scent – an aromatic fragrance that wakes up the emotions hidden under the stresses of daily life. In these moments, people pause, stopping by the lake, smiling absentmindedly, and suddenly realizing that they almost missed the autumn, almost missed the rich scent of Hanoi's autumn nights.

Thank you, autumn, for reminding us of the tender affection in life, for the sweet and cold taste of the air that soothes hearts hardened by the demands of life. Who says the streets don't have their own scents?

Gi Linh

September, a time when the autumn air fills the moment with wistful and intoxicating fragrances. While May and June are vibrant with the bright colors of flowers—purple jacarandas, red flamboyant, and pink lotus—September carries an aromatic allure with scents that stir the soul. The fragrance of milk flowers fills the air, while the sweet smell of ripe custard apples and the freshness of green tea leaves linger. Autumn for me as a child meant excitement whenever I visited my maternal grandparents. Their garden had a custard apple tree by the pond, its golden yellow fruit filling the air with sweetness. Every day, my grandfather or uncle would use a bamboo pole with a specially crafted basket to gently pluck the fruit, preventing it from falling and bruising. We children were given small woven baskets made of yarn or plastic rope, to hold the ripe fruit or hang them in various spots, adding charm and fragrance to our home. The golden fruit exuded a fragrance that was unmistakably autumnal. One ripe custard apple in the house filled the space with its sweet, distinctive smell. For me, the custard apple represented the fragrant sincerity of a fairy tale autumn. September, with its ripe fruit and moon cakes alongside a pot of tea, would fill the air with the soft, sweet scent of autumn. The sweetness of the cake, the slightly bitter taste of tea, and the scent of custard apples intertwined to create the essence of autumn, both subtle and captivating.

September, the autumn breeze mixes with the scent of the milk flower along the streets. For my youth, September meant cycling on Nguyen Du street after extra classes, picking a sprig of milk flower. The tiny white blossoms would emit their powerful fragrance, filling the air with nostalgia. I would tuck one sprig of milk flower into my schoolbag, preserving the essence of autumn in my memories. Its scent was overpowering, and having a tree of it near my house would sometimes feel overwhelming. But, just the faint scent carried on the wind would enchant and captivate. Sometimes, despite the intensity of the fragrance, the proximity of the smell, when too strong, could make one feel suffocated. It reminded me of how opposites—gentle and intense—can coexist, like a delicate autumn girl whose reserved beauty contrasts with the passionate, fiery charm of September. During the milk flower season, young couples would stroll under the sweet, fragrant breeze, making their moments feel just as fragrant and intense as the flowers themselves.

In September, the last traces of sunshine remain, golden and soft like honey, no longer the harsh heat of summer. The rice fields, nearing harvest, still smell faintly of young rice, a reminder of the days of youth. These grains, when harvested and turned into sticky rice cakes, carry the scent of autumn’s harvest. The fragrance of green sticky rice, with its sweet and soft flavor, is a hallmark of autumn. Behind the scent lies the laborious hands of rural life, the evening smoke rising from thatched roofs, and the quiet beauty of rice paddies where herons glide. On an autumn evening, after a family meal, the fresh sticky rice served with ripe bananas and grapefruits offered a taste of completeness, a harmony of flavors that lingered like the essence of the season itself.

September carries the fragrance of autumn with every step—the golden hues of ripe fruit, the green of fresh sticky rice, and the pure white of the milk flowers. The air is filled with rich, intimate fragrances that tie the land to the soul, forever capturing the heart in the soft embrace of autumn’s tender grace.

Cao Phan Long

Tonight, the city feels the cold wind, and the fragrance of milk flowers slips into the room. Standing by the window, the breeze carries the faint scent of the flowers, lightly brushing against my skin. It stirs up a sense of longing for past seasons. I remember the scent of milk flowers mixed with the crisp autumn breeze from years ago. It dawns on me that my youth is intertwined with the scent of these flowers.

The city in this season greets brief rains, neither hot and suffocating nor cold and numbing. That’s why people cherish this moment when, in this weather-beaten land, the changing of the seasons feels so peaceful. When nature is calm, the hearts of people also find tranquility. Along with the gentle breeze, millions of tiny milk flowers scatter their sweet, slightly sharp fragrance...

Perhaps only the milk flower can fill the air with its rich scent. Not everyone enjoys its fragrance. Some consider the milk flower a “lifelong enemy.” They say it appears too abundantly, and its intense aroma becomes overwhelming, even giving people headaches. Because of this generosity, the milk flower is often neglected by the winds, the rain, and the people. But for those of us who adore it, the stronger the scent, the closer we are to paradise. The sweet fragrance lifts my spirits, filling me with strange joy.

I first encountered the milk flower through songs about Hanoi: “The memories of the past still linger somewhere, with old friends, small streets, and milk flowers sweetening the night...”, “Milk flowers stop falling. We are together on a day after class...,” even before meeting this flower in person.

I still remember my first days away from home, studying in Hanoi. The bustling, noisy, crowded capital overwhelmed and repelled me. But there was one thing that made me love this place more each day, and that was the milk flower. In Hanoi, during autumn, you can smell that distinct fragrance everywhere. I often looked up to admire the tiny white flowers clumped together in clusters or bent down to pick up the small white petals scattered under the trees, like a delicate cloth covering the ground.

On lonely, wandering evenings, wanting to cry out loud, the faint scent of milk flowers somehow comforts me, easing my sorrow. I can never forget the feeling of standing on the balcony, closing my eyes, tilting my head back to inhale the scent of the milk flowers drifting through the night mist, my heart aching with homesickness, missing my mother, and that young man from back then...

There is a story often told about the milk flower: a tree that never bloomed, and a girl deeply in love with a boy, but only able to express her feelings through the tree because their lives were filled with too many obstacles for them to be together. In sorrow, her spirit left the world, finding refuge in the tree outside the boy’s house. The tree, touched by her sacrifice, began to bloom every autumn, never shedding its leaves, keeping its green canopy year-round as if protecting a silent love. The pure white flowers bloomed in abundance, releasing an extraordinary fragrance, much like the spirit of the girl.

Thus, the milk flower is often called the flower of untold stories, of unfulfilled love, and of pieces of hearts that are still searching for one another. It carries quiet pain, lingering throughout one’s life. Perhaps this is why autumn often feels so bittersweet.

I love the milk flower, but he does not. Every autumn, I would ask him to take me through the streets filled with these flowers. Whether by accident or design, he would often “get lost” and take another route. I would grumble, complain, and argue with him over this smell.

Since moving to Thanh Hoa for work, I often ride my bike down Le Hoan Street, enveloped in the fragrance of milk flowers. The city feels warm and familiar, and I realize I have grown. Passing through larger streets like Tran Phu, Phan Chu Trinh, the scent of the milk flower is still there, but the sensation is different; the city feels more vibrant and bustling.

Though not as abundant as in Hanoi, milk flowers can still be found on the main streets of Thanh Hoa. To me, this is a blessing. He’s less bothered by it, and I can enjoy my milk flower addiction, fully embracing the autumn season.

Another season of milk flowers has arrived, and it’s wonderful because we’re still together. If I could go back and choose again, I wonder if I would make the same choice. My love for him is just enough, not overwhelming, but women often accept things as they are.

I realize that women don’t always have to marry the person they love the most, as long as that person treats them well. I may not be as happy as I once hoped, but I’m not as unhappy as I feared. I have a marriage that’s warm enough to prevent me from constantly regretting my choices.

As the chilly season returns, he will once again take my hand, slipping it into his coat pocket, and we will wander through the streets with the milk flower fragrance mixing in the breeze.

This sweet scent makes lonely hearts long for closeness in the cool, misty air. Without embellishment or exaggeration, it’s like a seasoning that, if missing, makes it hard to name the autumn season...

Tăng Thuý

Wandering through the streets, I am caught by the soft transformation of the world. It is truly autumn! Who else can feel the season's gentle approach? For someone like me, who embraces tranquility, the arrival of autumn stirs a deep emotion, even with its slightest touch. It’s where the golden leaves rustle under the cool autumn breeze. It’s where the fog of early mornings and evening twilights quietly lingers. It’s where the sun only offers enough light to cast shadows. It’s where I fall in love with a specific scent.

As the seasons shift, the familiar scent of milk flowers fills the narrow paths of the vast city, reminding me that autumn is here. Not everyone is moved by the scent of milk flowers, because sometimes, instead of planting just one tree to scent the neighborhood, people plant entire rows of them. When that happens, the fragrance rises high with pride.

As night falls and the wind picks up, the scent of milk flowers creeps through the cracks of the door, waking me unexpectedly. Walking under the yellow streetlights, with the crisp autumn breeze brushing through my long, dark hair, I inhale the scent of the flowers. Can anything be more peaceful? The fragrance is so intense, it seems to seep deep into the hearts of those who appreciate love, care, and the beauty of life. Surely, there must be something special hidden within it.

This flower, with its uniquely powerful scent, expresses both the vigorous life force and the gentle essence of autumn. The milk flower in my neighborhood quietly hides among the large old trees, humbly standing in the corner of the street, silently releasing its fragrance. As the night deepens, when everything around has fallen into sleep, the scent becomes even more pronounced. The next morning, those who are emotionally connected to it walk down the streets, reaching up to catch the last remnants of its fading fragrance. It seems as if the milk flowers are trying to intensify their scent, claiming the hearts of people in the stillness, but also feeling shy in the face of the morning sun.

There are times when, amidst the wide streets bustling with people and vehicles, the air is filled with the scent of milk flowers, calming my heart. This fragrance makes the soul settle, wrapping itself in the coolness of the breeze and mist, bringing me back to autumn and filling my heart with love for the flowers.

There are moments when the scent of milk flowers feels overwhelming, but as it fades, it leaves a longing behind. When the flowers bloom, it signifies that autumn has arrived. The first bloom of the season evokes emotions that are strangely stirring. In the familiar trees, in the atmosphere of the scent, a new feeling emerges, one that speaks of youthful innocence, difficult to name, but wonderfully warm.

Author: Pham Phuong Anh

Leaving behind the only milk flower tree in the poor village, you and I venture far into the city, searching for the corner of Máy Tơ street where two rows of milk flowers bloom, and where we live and study together in pursuit of our dream. Five seasons of milk flowers have fallen beside empty and full yogurt cups after many sleepless nights of essays.

We greet the morning with a sweet, brown sugar milk coffee. My hand scrolls through Facebook and I come across a bunch of pristine milk flowers you gave me at the start of the season. I softly say, "Hello autumn!" Suddenly, I realize you’ve always been there for me. Perhaps, you’re not someone I see every day, or even for a long time… but the memories remind me that you’ve always been there, close by. Because every autumn, the milk flowers release their fragrance, and I remember: we used to be like this, full of love!

I realize time doesn't just move forward endlessly! Time is a cyclical process. Like our hearts, which rotate through various memories: this part for mother, for father, this part for brothers and sisters, and this part just for you – the one who grew up with me for 18 years, sharing first experiences in life.

The old milk tree at the entrance of our house is probably blooming now, sending fragrance across the poor village. I wonder if Mrs. Ghi still plans to chop down the tree because of its strong smell. Mom must have apologized to her and asked the kids to pick the flowers. Or perhaps after so many years, Mrs. Ghi and the village have become accustomed to it as concrete houses rise, replacing the bamboo thickets that once welcomed the breeze. The fragrance of the milk flowers might be lighter, yet still lingering. Dad planted that tree, and after all these years, his promise to return faded into nothing. Only the two little girls are left, searching for their love under the moonlight through the way mother gazes at the fallen milk flowers in the small yard. To understand that distance is real. 'Love in separation is like a flame in the wind. The wind extinguishes the small flame but fans the big flame.' Perhaps, the love dad had for mom was just a small flame.

Leaving behind the only milk flower tree in the poor village, you and I venture far into the city, searching for the corner of Máy Tơ street where two rows of milk flowers bloom, and where we live and study together in pursuit of our dream. Five seasons of milk flowers have fallen beside empty and full yogurt cups after many sleepless nights of essays. The tense moments of oral exams where one breath of milk flower scent can recharge our weary spirits. Conversations about first loves with sparkling eyes on nights when the fragrance of milk flowers fills the air.

And then, beside the diploma, I place a bunch of milk flowers – a token of youthful dreams, white chalkboards, and playful school days. A symbol of memories of a friendship that walked hand-in-hand through the naïve years of youth. And then life, with its busy pace of people and work, pushes us farther apart due to the balance of life. But today, just one breath of autumn’s original, fragrant air is enough to bring back those memories.


Thương Thương

On a cool autumn evening, I stroll by the lake, and in the soft breeze, I catch a hint of the fragrant white flowers. These flowers bloom only in the autumn, and as the season deepens, their scent grows stronger. Each year, when the white flowers 'remind' me that autumn has arrived, my heart feels a wave of nostalgia, an indescribable longing. Just before autumn sets in, on a quiet evening filled with the strong fragrance of these flowers, it's hard for anyone not to feel a sense of restlessness in their soul.

White flowers are simple yet graceful, with tiny, delicate blooms that are pure white and soft to the touch. When in full bloom, the entire tree seems to be drenched in this white hue. Despite their humble appearance, the flowers are compensated by a distinct, almost unique fragrance. It’s not as alluring as a rose or as sweet as a lily, but it carries a scent all its own—enough to captivate anyone caught up in the hustle and bustle of the city streets. Especially at night, when the chaos of the day settles, the fragrance of these flowers seems to fill the air the most. It's no wonder this flower has found its way into poetry and songs, like the timeless lyrics of musician Trinh Cong Son: 'Autumn in Hanoi, the autumn of Hanoi, the season when the white flowers bloom, their fragrance drifting on every breeze. The green sticky rice season arrives, sweet to the touch, while the street corner by the milk shop carries the scent of the flowers as footsteps pass by.' For many, the scent of white flowers is more than a mere preference—it's tied to memories that cannot be forgotten. The fragrance has the power to evoke memories buried deep in the past. It might be a first love, filled with tender moments shared near the tree. Later, the flowers' scent lingers on your shoulder or in your hair. Or perhaps it’s a childhood memory, mischievous and innocent, of picking a whole branch of white flowers to hide in the house, only to be scolded by your mother for its strong fragrance.

At times, it’s a girl, disappointed by her poor grades or reprimanded by her mother, wandering alone through a street lined with these white flowers, wishing to cry but finding comfort in their sweet scent. There are also nights when a weary musician leaves the recording studio, wandering the streets to find inspiration among the trees. And a street vendor, tired from a long day of work, leans against the tree for a brief moment of rest. Sometimes, it’s the hot tears of someone hiding their heartbreak at the base of the tree after saying goodbye to their first love. All these memories are carefully tucked away in the heart, so that whenever you pass by that familiar street, during autumn when the white flowers bloom, you can't help but smile and reminisce.

The cool autumn night settles in, and I let the fragrance of the flowers embrace me, bringing peace and calm to my soul. Walking slowly, I am trying to savor the sweet, charming scent of the white flowers. On the other side of the lake, the soft sound of a song drifts through the air: 'The white flowers still bloom sweetly at the corner of the street every night. Could it be that you have forgotten me?'

"October suddenly rushes in like a dizzy spell/ I sway in the intoxicating fragrance of milk flowers/ Hanoi in autumn still has fiery sunlight/ I linger in a mix of remembering and forgetting…"

I unexpectedly write these verses when the city is filled with the fragrance of milk flowers. When the chilly first breezes of the season brush across the rooftops, causing sensitive souls to feel their hearts slow down in a nostalgic haze, that’s when the milk flowers bloom, releasing their soft fragrance that weaves through the air of the streets transitioning into autumn.

The tiny clusters of flowers, like delicate stars glowing with pale green hues, spread a rich, creamy scent. Perhaps that’s the reason they are called "milk flowers". This flower has found its place in poetry, music, photography, in timeless love songs, and in the memories of the beautiful relationships of the youth of Hanoi:

"I still waited for you
On those familiar roads
Someone’s song stirs the air
The scent of flowers drifting through the calm…"

Despite its sweet and soft name, the milk flower is also known as the "crab-catching tree". It’s a tall tree with a wide canopy, its trunk filled with white, milky sap, which explains why it is called the milk tree or milk flower. It is commonly planted in tropical areas for shade and to beautify the environment. In densely populated areas, it should be spaced and planted in moderate numbers so that its fragrance remains gentle and pleasant, not overwhelming the health of the people.

Not only do the people of Hanoi love milk flowers, but even those from distant places who adore Hanoi have fallen for this special flower. Many international visitors, fortunate enough to visit the capital during the milk flower season, are taken aback by the beauty and the enchanting scent of this bloom.

The pale green color of the milk flowers is as refreshing and tender as the youthful beauty of Hanoi’s girls. The fragrance that lingers, like a shy teenager, is also quite feminine, captivating those who get close. To many, milk flowers are an inseparable part of Hanoi. They are simple, familiar, and hold a significant emotional value within the unique beauty of the capital’s autumn.

Milk flowers and love share an uncanny similarity. When it’s faint, it’s intoxicating and alluring. When it’s distant, it’s filled with longing and desire. But if it’s too close, too overwhelming, it can become suffocating, even "poisonous". That’s why in love, we should leave space for the heart to breathe, allow each other some distance. Only then can we continue to desire and yearn for each other, forever burning with the passion to conquer and explore one another.

That’s why, no matter how intense the fragrance of milk flowers becomes, causing discomfort for those sensitive to its autumn scent, every time Hanoi ushers in the season, people long for the blooming milk flowers. They yearn to stroll hand in hand with their loved one, walking along streets like Nguyen Du, Quán Thánh, Nguyễn Chí Thanh... lined with green stars, surrendering to the cool autumn night as if wanting to embrace Hanoi’s autumn in a passionate embrace…

Hanoi’s milk flowers have bloomed, shining in brilliant white…

Hoa Phố

On an autumn night, I lie awake, listening to the whispers of rain by the window, as each drop falls, tilts, and shatters on the leaves, the branches, and then rushes into the heart. The deep memories and moments flood in, all tied to the one from the past. Then I find myself lost in thoughts about life and human fate—oh, life, why is it so fragile sometimes? Just like the raindrops falling on an autumn night. It’s not just women, it’s not only the weak who occasionally express such feelings.

'My body like a falling raindrop.
Some fall to the palaces, others to the fields.'

The life of a man sometimes mirrors the journey of a raindrop. To become part of the rain, it endures the scorching sun, evaporates into clouds, and wanders far across the sky. Eventually, it gathers with others, forms a cold, crystallized mass, then falls, breaking the silence of the sky, only to flow into rivers, into seas.

The cycle of the raindrop mirrors the cycle of life itself—a never-ending circle, ever-moving. As the rain taps lightly, sometimes with a gentle rhythm, sometimes in a sudden torrent, memories return with the autumn rain. Memories that once seemed faint, like raindrops under a dim light, suddenly revive with a rush of emotions.

The rain gradually fades, growing quieter, until it stops completely, leaving the night with the cool, tranquil air of early autumn. The feeling of coolness, dryness, and chilliness lingers. Even when the rain ends, my heart still beats with memories—some of joy, others of sorrow, creating a current that pulls me back in time.

The rain is gone, but its drops linger in my soul. The night sleeps in silence, with only the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze, as if the night itself is startled. The fragrance of the flowers, sweet and nostalgic, floats in the air, adding another layer of softness to the memories of the past, making them feel lighter, like a song.

'The fragrant flowers still bloom at the street corners, night after night.
Can you forget me, can you forget me?...'

The scent of flowers fills the air, sweet and warm, like the smell of durian—some people love it, others loathe it. But I adore the fragrance of these flowers because you loved them too, even though now:

'...Only the scent of flowers lingers in the small room, on this last autumn night, when the moon is dimmed by mist...'

You and I are far apart now.

There was a time when I rode my bicycle, carrying you through the deep autumn night. The empty street, with the leaves swirling, and you gazing up at the night sky, exclaiming, 'Fragrant flowers... such a strange but familiar smell.' The air was filled with a sweet, warm fragrance, like a cozy blanket on a cool evening. The street lights glimmered, and the scene could have been melancholic if not for your laughter echoing through the quiet streets. Your face was most radiant when you smiled—your bright eyes, rosy lips, and smooth hair. Your soft hand warmed a part of my soul.

The autumn nights of our youth were full of love, full of dreams. Sometimes, I meet you in my dreams, and the images of that beautiful time fill me with nostalgia. The rain falls on my shoulders in the cold night, and the street remains forever fragrant with the smell of flowers.

'The flowers no longer fall, but we will be together one afternoon, after the layers fade.'

Sitting together, listening to the breath of the night, your delicate hands holding a small, pure flower, as you embrace its fragrance, intoxicated by the scent. We sat silently, yet in our hearts, a love song played. And tonight, we are lost in a dream, revisiting the past in the rain, with the scent of flowers filling the air. Who are we? Or have we become someone else? All I hear are the echoes of the old days. Your soft, fragrant hands gently push your hair aside in the rain, and I stand beside you, speaking words that seem unnecessary. Yet, over the years, the fragrance of your hair in the autumn has stayed with me.

There will still be more autumns, more rainy nights, and the sweet scent of flowers. But you will never return. The path to your heart is now overgrown with moss, and I am left alone with my longing. I remember the days when we were together, even though those days will never return. Now, I walk alone on the path we once shared, each step taking me closer to the memories of the past.

Tuan Pham

The days in the middle of autumn gently stir up feelings of a time long past. Walking through the streets, people move in all directions. The air is filled with the soothing scent of herbs. It is peaceful and incredibly sweet!

People often lose themselves in the intoxicating essence of nature, or their hearts race when they encounter a familiar face. When thinking of autumn, there are countless things that could be named: the scent of green rice flakes during a nostalgic journey; the fragrance of ripe guavas along the riverbank; the golden, soft carpet of falling leaves that create a dreamy path; the morning mist lazily drifting over the lake... But perhaps for me, the soul of autumn is embodied in the scent of milk flowers.

This small, modest flower, with its quiet beauty, “is ugly due to giving all its fragrance,” somehow captures the heart and leaves one feeling entranced. The milk flower blooms in clusters of pale white, a color that fades easily when next to any flower with bright colors or distinct fragrances.

The scent of milk flowers is most recognizable at night. When walking down a familiar road, while conversations are becoming more animated, we suddenly pause, as if struck by a fragrance. It arrives suddenly, clings to the air, and leaves an unforgettable, fleeting feeling. It is both present and invisible, but the sense of longing it evokes is undeniable. With the milk flower, one grips tighter, breathes faster, and the gentle harmony spreads within. The milk flower is the present, the past, and the future. I could not have noticed autumn’s gentleness if not for the strong fragrance of milk flowers that linger in the air, evoking memories:

"The memories of the past,
Still linger somewhere,
On familiar roads,
On narrow streets,
Milk flowers remain sweet at the end of the street every night,
(Could you have forgotten me?
Could you have forgotten me?)

Milk flowers are the bridge to memories, the link to love. They bring us back to the past, to find the pieces of a 'magical green mirror.' They make us yearn and reminisce about an intense love. They allow the soul, now gentle and calm, to return, filling the night with longing. The heart, thought to have grown cold, starts beating again with sweet affection. Let’s slow down, as time rushes by so fast. Slow down, for autumn passes quickly. Slow down, to embrace love once more...

Dang Mai Phuong