Top 10 Memorable Poems by Poet Nguyễn Trọng Tạo

A Few Words for You

I know you don't like it
when I draw my eyebrows
- please don't blame me, my love
even though this isn't the first time

I know you don't like it
when I wear high heels
- my love, please don't be mad
I will get used to falling

I know you're easily jealous
when I go out with friends
- my love, please don't be angry
there's a lot of things, do you mind?

I know you like the color green
yet I wear a red dress
- please don't blame me, my love
I don't want to lie to myself

... When all the things you love
I easily agree to do
then at that moment
it will only be... you and me!

Before the Statue of Lý Tự Trọng

The roads converge
The roads spread wide
Your eyes beckon me
Your eyes bid me farewell

The west lake breeze in March
Turns the sky into a legend
You remain forever young
Through times of sunshine and rain

The young men passing by
Gaze at the past reflected in the streets
The young women walking by
Always remember the flames that burned bright

The younger ones with red scarves
Come with you in March
It feels like we’ve grown in an instant
Beneath the vast sky and the green leaves...

Hanoi, 3.1985

Separation

Give me a life to share
a bitter taste
a moment of joy
a sadness
I am left with a lifeless body
a bottle without wine, only the empty shell

Give me a life of intoxication
a fig tree
with
a bodhi tree
what remains of my passion
under the scorching sun, I return withered

Give me a life of Poetry
a drifting soul
a foolish heart
only me
now only grass grows under the sky
a small flower falls quietly in the heavy rain...

1989

This poem was later turned into a song by composer Phú Quang, titled "One Fool, One Me".

Immortality

Tribute to General Võ Nguyên Giáp

Saint Giong ascends to the heavens. Saint Giáp returns to his homeland
For the people and the nation, he becomes immortal
He transforms into mountains, clouds, fields, rivers, and seas
He becomes the symbol of the letter S protecting the East Sea

He becomes the shrine in every heart of the people
He becomes the torch that lights the dark nights
He becomes the sun bringing warmth to the world
He becomes the moon, a bright mirror in the sky

He spent three years silent and still, growing into a heroic figure
At the end of his life, he hid the star of Khuê in his loyal heart
Patience and Glory intertwined
His red heart became relics, golden threads of wisdom

He never imagined becoming a saint
But when he passed, the entire nation mourned
The land became a dragon bowing, the tiger kneeling
Honoring him as the Saint of the people’s hearts

Thunder roared through the sky
Sending him into Immortality
We hear the earth tremble with sorrow
Stars shine in remembrance of him...

Hanoi, 10.10.2013

The Realm of Memory

My friends, if it weren’t for you
I would be like a bottle drained dry
Empty cups turned upside down on a plate
I would be like a flowerless ceramic jar

The verses you wrote filled with affection
The songs you gifted brought me the Cầu River
Your voice, vibrating with silent emotions
Our meetings make me remember you even more

My friends, if it weren’t for you
Where would I wander, aimlessly?
Without the gift of Memory, how poor it would be
I would be like a lost star under the daylight

Your hearts keep me here
Your joy is held for me
Your tears are kept for me
You hold the Grass and the Sky for me

My friends, please love forever and always
Love the joy, love the sorrow
Let’s lift our cups once again, my friends
Tomorrow, as our hair turns gray, we’ll still search for each other!

Hà Nội, 1981

My Mother

My mother comes from a rural lineage
With betel leaves and areca nuts from before marriage
Wearing a brown gown and a brown headscarf
The white scarf binding the love that formed our bond

My father didn’t pass the exams for top honors
He was a scholar but often forgot about family duties
My mother never complained
She worked both the fields and with animals, always busy at home

She was devoted to her husband and children
With lullabies for the rice fields and songs to soothe her kids
Seven children, both sons and daughters, full and joyful
Through the war, she waited for her children and honored her husband

Now the city is crowded, filled with people
The children live far apart, yet she still visits them
(Old age makes travel hard
She worries about her children and grandchildren, restless at night)

My mother, with silver hair and a smile
Forever remembers and cherishes our rural roots.

The Child Learns to Pronounce Syllables

Mom, listen carefully
I'll pronounce the syllables…

The horizon wears pants
Unbuttons the rice grains

Dad reads the newspaper
The mynah bird carries food.

The mountain stands, the mountain sits
Wandering in the white clouds.

The chick pecks at the sunlight
Little Thắng stays at home.

The rose tree blooms
The loudspeaker speaks well.

The striped cat meows in hunger
The fish bites the bait.

The smile is bright
The mallow flower is purple.

In the fields, the rice ripens
The smooth yard is neat.

The dike bends
The square angle of the beam.

The mortar pot is empty
Mom’s hair is long.

I’ve learned the lesson
Miss Hoài teaches us to sing.

The sandcastle
Uncle Đạt writes poems.

I never memorize it
Because the poem is hard to recite.


Đại Lải, 1983

Nursery Rhyme for Adults

There is a forest that is dead yet still green within me
There are people alive yet seem to have passed away

There are answers that turn into questions
There are those who cheat, thinking it’s a wedding feast

There are fathers, mothers, and orphaned children
There is a full moon, but it's not a plate of sticky rice

There is land and sky, but no home to dwell in
There is a little joy, and an immense sorrow

But the boat still sails, and the grass is still green
But life is still intoxicated, and the soul still soars

There is love, there is longing, there is crying, there is laughter
In the blink of an eye, a thousand years pass.

1992

10 Poems and a Wish

(Poem written on the night of my suicide)

If someone buries my heart
It will rise up as the sunset!

1.

It’s not this way, but it is this way
I’m leaving, not because I don’t love Mother
I’m leaving, not because I don’t love people
It’s not this way, but it is this way

It’s not this way, but it is this way
My friends still have hope for me
These poems still owe the afternoon clouds
It’s not this way, but it is this way

It’s not this way, but it is this way
I’m leaving, don’t think it’s because I’m gone
I’m leaving because I loved life too much
It’s not this way, but it is this way

2.

Why must I kill myself with two bullets?
The worry isn’t about coincidence
I’m not the kind of person who desires death
Then what is the reason?

One bullet can kill me enough
And the other? It’s meant for someone else
But I’ve loved others more than myself
The second bullet will kill me again!

3.

People live one way, and die the same
I live truthfully, I die truthfully
Over 30 years ago, I entered this world
And after 30 years, I leave it

What’s different are the days I lived
Meeting people with handshakes, others with kisses
Now, I die alone in a sealed room
No handshake. No kiss.

4.

Flower, if you are saddened by my death
I do not wish to stop your sorrow

We lived for each other, like tree and roots
Why stop what is inevitable?

And so, Flower, don’t blame me
I left without asking for your permission.

5.

I didn’t expect to clearly know the last poem I wrote
This solemn, trembling poem
Just this one thing makes me happy:
I’m gone, but my poem remains…

6.

On this earth, I came and went like a flash
Oh, life is so short
Saying goodbye to childhood and the red phoenix season
The soldier’s uniform hasn’t grown old yet

Looking back, love is like salt on the heart
Oh my little daughter! You are the greatest poem
Forever carrying the verses I wrote
Carrying me in moments of weakness

Many friends
Some deeply moved
Throughout my life on this earth
Living truthfully, like a flash

Oh, life is so short
Why hate? Why regret?
A flash of lightning shines brightly
People come and go as they will

“On this earth, I’m just passing by
Wave at me with a kind hand”
I waved to Esenin with the wave he desired
Now it’s my turn. Who will wave me goodbye?

7.

It should’ve been that I left, but why am I still here?
Facing the horizon of my childhood
Facing the injustice and suffering
It should’ve been that I left, but why am I still here?

My heart is troubled, the sky is full of clouds
Yearning for freedom, yet it’s chained
Yearning for love, but it’s tossed around
The sacred truth is being twisted and betrayed

It should’ve been that I left, but why am I still here?
To sing my song for the last time
To sing praise to righteousness
It should’ve been that I left, but why am I still here?

8.

Friend, maybe you’ve supported me but couldn’t succeed
Friend, maybe we’ve argued without words
Friend, maybe you’ve been indifferent to me
Friend, maybe we’ve agreed on some things, but not others

Life is like that, it keeps going on

Today I die, tomorrow someone else dies
Today, someone loves me, tomorrow they love someone else
Today, someone hates me, tomorrow they hate someone else
Life is like that, it keeps going on

Today I die, tomorrow someone else dies

9.

Maybe it’s not this way, but I think it is
People live cautiously, full of doubt
Smiling for courtesy
Even work is done for courtesy
Maybe it’s not this way, but I think it is

Maybe it’s because of something
Like petty jealousy
Eager to strike at the cracks of kindness
Like oxen fighting, the field is trampled
Parents fight, starving their children

Why do people listen reluctantly to true sincerity?
Why do people slander you when you’re in trouble?
Why does one commit suicide while others drink to celebrate?
Why doesn’t one lean on the sincere people?

Maybe it’s not this way, but I think it is
There are so many factions blocking the way
These factions dress in luxurious clothing
They have rosy skin
Their smiles are deceptive
Sometimes, they wear military uniforms

Maybe it’s not this way, but I think it is

10.

If my heart could be torn into thousands of tiny pieces
I would throw them into the sky for the wind to carry

If my heart could resonate with music
I would dedicate it to the song

If my heart could be written into poetry
It has always been in my poems

If my heart could love passionately
It would be in your chest, so deeply

If someone buries my heart
It will rise up as the sunset!

Vân Hồ 3, the night of 11.11.1981

When I finished writing these 10 poems, it was almost dawn. I took the two magazines out of my pistols, placed them in the gun holsters. One gun was placed in my locker, the other was returned to Nguyen Hoa’s locker, my close friend who was returning to the countryside.

The River Dresses Up

The river looks so graceful today
The sunlight dresses it in delicate pink silk
As noon arrives, the sky stretches wide
Its green garment seems freshly sewn
In the evening, clouds drift lazily
The golden sunset wraps itself around its waist
At night, the moon stitches a glowing thread
Over a velvet backdrop, a thousand stars rise
Late at night, the river wears a dark cloak
Hiding among the grapefruit trees, the banks are still and quiet.

At dawn, the scent is intoxicating
Has the river ever worn flowers before?
Looking up, it’s greeted by the gentle fall
Of a thousand white grapefruit blossoms scattering across its garment...

Hà Tĩnh, 1972