Top 10 Most Beautiful Poems About Hoa Binh

On a chilly afternoon, exploring the landscape of Mai Chau.

The winding mountain roads curve like a symbol of affection.

We meet at dawn's first light.

The mist in the mountain pass surrounds us, just the two of us.

The night dew drips gently, adding a serene atmosphere.

The lush green forest is filled with the rich charm of the highlands.

The girls of Mai Chau are elegant and refined.

Laughing and dancing with friends to the rhythm of the Thai dance.

The evening light flickers from the fire.

Hand in hand, we dance with the traditional skirts… it feels so beautiful.

Come, my dear friends, join us.

Mai Chau eagerly awaits to welcome you to its mountain home.

Warm rice wine flows in abundance.

Gathering around the fire, we joyously celebrate together.

Destiny binds us with harmonious connections.

Returning to the city, we carry the heartfelt love from here.

Poem: Mạc Phương

It's been three years since I last visited Mai Chau.

The beloved land that nurtured me as I grew up.

The Da River sparkles under the morning sun.

Fog floats gently over the Thung Khe mountain pass.

Bản Lác is still untouched, with flickering lights from the evening fire.

The traditional rice wine jug still captivates visitors.

The meal of grilled fish, a specialty of the Northwest, is unforgettable.

Fish grilled in the smoke, the memory of Thung Nai lingers in my mind.

I remember Mai Chau on those early mornings.

The fog covers the riverbank, turning everything white.

Waves ripple gently, caressing the shores.

Waiting for my father to return with the full fish net.

The oars stir the vast waters as the boat slowly makes its way to the shore.

The child happily carries a small basket, bringing fish for mother to cook lunch.

I remember Hoa Binh during the rainy months.

The Da River's water rushes in torrents.

My father tirelessly works, day by day, guiding tourists to visit Mai Chau.

I never forget the days of scorching heat on the mountain passes.

With a basket on my back, my mother and I ascend the fields.

The sharp rocky peaks seem to challenge us, while my mother's legs bear the marks of time.

Yet I never saw my mother complain, even when the Da River raged and swept away our fishing nets, our family's only source of livelihood.

Three years have passed, and I still haven’t visited Mai Chau.

The land where I was born, where my roots run deep.

It is the place that shaped my love and understanding of my origins, a love that grows stronger every day.

Author: Bùi Thị Hạnh / Yên Đồng Preschool - Yên Lạc

Returning to visit Bản Lác on a spring evening.
The mountains stand in awe, unaware of their own beauty.
The clouds linger, uncertain of their place.

The spirit of "Tây Tiến" rises within me.
The season's fragrance fills the air,
As the scent of incense drifts faintly into the evening breeze.

In Mai Chau, I remember the Piêu scarf,
The slow rhythm of weaving,
The intricate patterns that tell of love and longing.

Feelings of the land, woven into the fabric,
Silver jewelry, braided hair...
My sister shyly avoids my gaze.

The sound of drums and gongs fills the air,
The spring evening in Bản Lác dances in the rosy light of her cheeks.

- Nguyễn Thị Tuyết -

I came to Mai Chau searching for the fragrance of fresh rice.
The last days of spring, the sun beams brightly, breaking through the clouds.
Bản Lác glows with a golden light, filled with the scent of fresh earth.
Captivating, like the pure beauty of the traveler’s soul.
You greet me with a smile as gentle as the breeze,
And I sense a faint trace of an old scent, lingering in the air.
The winding paths connect small villages,
The green rice fields are ready for the first harvest.
Grandmother sits by the house, waiting for her children.
The old scarf, woven by your mother’s hands, shows the wear of time.
Do you remember the image of your mother sitting at the loom?
Simple memories tied with threads of love.
That sweet taste of rice wine, reminiscent of home.
The subtle rhythm of the dance matches the gentle sway of your hands.
Your soft movements stir a surge of emotions.
There’s a sense of loss for this peaceful village,
And a bittersweet feeling when it’s time to part.
I long for the day we meet again, just as we did the first time.
And our love will never fade with the passing years.

Author: ShinichiTN

Come, my dear, visit my homeland,
Hòa Bình, the place I hold so dearly in my heart.
Here, I share with you countless stories,
To make you love my homeland even more.
Come and see the shimmering hydroelectric dam,
At night, it lights up the poor, yet beautiful, land.
The Đà River flows with crystal-clear waters,
Reflecting the sky and clouds above.
Cool breezes gently drift by,
Carrying the kites soaring in the sky.
In the evenings, my hometown is calm and serene,
Where the sound of bamboo flutes fills the air.
I drift into a peaceful sleep with a lullaby,
As the morning sun awakens the mist rising.
In Hòa Bình, every dawn is a melody,
With birds chirping, calling their flocks to gather.
The grass, trees, and flowers greet the day,
And yet, in my heart, I feel a bittersweet longing.
I stand, lost in thought, waiting for someone,
To come and witness the pink sunrise in my homeland.

Author: Hương Hà

I return to Hòa Bình one bright morning,
Oh, mountain town, bathed in warm sunlight.
There, I see you, with flowers in your hair,
The shimmering waters of the Đà River reflect the sky.
The vast mountains stretch endlessly, majestic,
The misty town, with its curved tiled roofs.
And there you are, the girl from the Mường village,
Gracefully wearing your colorful dress, waiting for someone.
The river flows endlessly, its waters long and wide,
As the autumn sun shines, I wish to meet you again.
The clouds drift peacefully across the serene mountains,
As I lean to hand you my hat, your cheeks blush with joy.
The festival day arrives, with people from everywhere,
Strangers from afar now feel like family.
We hold hands, sharing drinks from the communal jar,
The night sky reflects the silver river, sparkling bright.
We drink, basking in the moon's glow,
Lost in the moment, unwilling to let go.
Perhaps I’ve fallen for those eyes, so soft and gentle, from long ago.

Author: Kiều Cường

The waters of the Đà River still flow,
Throughout the year, the engines hum in rhythm.
In the past, we lit lamps with firewood,
Now, the huts glow bright with electric light.
Every alley echoes with joy and cheer,
The people of Mường are full of happiness.
We toast with fragrant wine, so rich,
Warmth and love drive away the worries.
When the K’Lăng season comes, we reunite,
The village blooms with the laughter of the flowers.
Beautiful, like a rose in full bloom,
As autumn arrives, the morning sun shines bright.
Poets from all over gather near,
And we all hurry forward together.
On the 9th day of the first lunar month, we celebrate,
Hòa Bình, beloved, with forests waving their greetings.

Author: Minh Lộc

Silent and intense,
In the midday heat of July, the Đà River flows,
The lake is deep, dizzying to the eyes,
The dog reaches up, touching the faraway sky...
The mouth of the dragon, filled with excess water,
The three gates spurt out rose-colored dust,
The floods from Sơn La flow down the streets,
While the six gates release endlessly.
The ground trembles as the cars rush by,
The wires hum with high voltage,
The welding flames bloom like mustard flowers,
The mountain twists and turns.
Hòa Bình – the source of white coal,
The national grid pulses with electricity,
Traveling across thousands of miles,
Bringing joy to every home.
A monumental project of the century,
Leaving a legacy for generations to come.
Nature is beautiful, yes, but it’s
The hands of humanity that make it so.

- Mạnh Khoa -

You are the daughter of Hòa Bình,
The intricate patterns on your skirt hide your modesty,
Familiar along the path I walk,
Your stilt house, with its thatched walls, nestled in the mountains.
Your village lies halfway up the hills,
And during the festival season, the air is filled with joy.
The sounds of the gongs echo through the hills and valleys,
The rượu cần sways in the evening and morning light,
Only when tipsy can love be truly spoken,
The heart reveals its feelings to someone special.
The threads of love float with the wind,
From the hands of a woman who tends to the rice fields,
The poems of affection bloom, waiting for someone to return,
Is there anyone coming back to the Mường village with me?

Poetry by: Hoa Nắng

The road to the Northwest is winding,
With hills hanging high and misty peaks,
The landscape feels like a dream,
The stilt houses half-hidden, veiled by the clouds.
The Mường girls have rosy cheeks,
Wearing wide skirts and traditional tops, charming all who see them.
The rượu cần brewed with fresh leaves,
Drinking it, I lose myself in your smile.
The magic of the drink, too strong to resist,
Leaves its mark on the bright scarf you wear.
Lost in thought, you remain cheerful,
As I wonder, after you leave, will you still remember me?

Author: Gia Long Hp