Top 10 Most Beautiful Poems by Poet Nguyen Sa

What's so special about Paris, my love?
When I return, will you still be gentle?
Spring flowers are scattered across the streets,
Will you search for me in the birds' flight?

What's so special about Paris, my love?
When I return, will I be on the Seine’s banks?
Am I back amidst a white river stream,
Wrapped in mist or your embrace?

Will you be standing by the river's edge?
Please shield half the moon's glow for me
When I return, will I drift on the current,
Seeking you in the moonlight's beam?

I'll breathe in the cool night mist,
As every drop of dew fades away
When the dawn brings a sky full of stars,
Are they your eyes shining through the wind?

I’ll hold your hands in mine,
Your hair, I’ll call it the clouds
When we are apart someday,
I’ll still see the white clouds fly by.

I’ll write poetry on the canvas of time,
Verses filled with longing and jealousy,
For you, or perhaps the bright moon,
Entranced in the gaze of your eyes?

I’ll play the strings without sound,
Only hearing the breeze whispering longing,
To ease the ache of distance,
And soothe the yearning that lingers.

What’s so special about Paris, my love?
When I return, will my eyes still be dark?
Will I still seek the fragrance of green rice,
Wondering who crafted the lotus leaves?

This poem was adapted into a song by composer Ngo Thuy Mien.

When did I first meet you?
Was it when the moon descended at midnight?
When the wind stirred your hair,
Or when the autumn swallows returned?

Did you wear on your dress,
Two parts wind and one part cloud?
Or did you fold the clouds in your sleeve,
And breathe life into the fluttering white fabric?

Is it because spring is on the horizon?
Or the cold wind of the late night?
Or did you simply choose the wrong dress,
So the autumn sunlight fills the path ahead?

Is it that we haven’t yet met?
How do I wait for you every morning?
Or perhaps each breath of mine is a melody,
Descending in a low tune, eyes full of longing?

In the evening, I sit listening to the late stars,
Walking barefoot with light steps,
And hearing you visit my dreams,
The hat tilted in sorrow as the wind carries it away.

I don’t know if this is strange or familiar,
But I know you bring with you an ethereal presence,
And so, my blurred eyes see only you,
In all four corners of the world, it’s only you.

Source: Nguyen Sa Poetry, Wind Ensemble Publishing, 1971

What illusion compares to the illusion of the moon?
You play the moon's melody, singing with the clouds.
I return just as the night falls,
Finding the moon’s echo within poetry.

What illusion compares to the illusion of the clouds?
You smile under the sunlight, your dress in hand.
Poetry swirls in your gown, you in the breeze,
I remember, vaguely, the white clouds drifting by.

What illusion compares to the illusion of you?
Your laughter stirs memories of familiar souls.
In my past life, I recall the clouds from long ago,
But now, in this life, I only remember you.

What illusion compares to the illusion of myself?
I stretch out my five fingers, stirring the vibrations.
Gazing around, uncertain, the mountains rise high,
I stand, leaning on your shoulder, as an old friend.

What illusion compares to the illusion of the moon?
The sky guides me to where you rest.
You are like a mystery, life like a dream,
I lie down to sleep beneath a moonlit sky.

This poem was adapted into a song by composer Pham Anh Dung, with the same title.

What’s there, my love? A group of people,
A group of people contributing their strength and efforts,
Together they unite to build something bigger,
Steps joined together lead to progress!
They are not foolish, they don’t make the moon into a candle!
Only smiles join the strange into the familiar,
Voices join to form a harmonious rhythm,
Hands join to create a grand assembly,
Arms extended to lengthen the reach.
Rice gathered around the pot for a shared meal,
They walk together, sharing months, sharing years...
To make tomorrow's rivers and seas.

What’s there, a group of people,
By the banks of the Mekong, beating a rhythm?
The whole river joins in, pounding along the shore,
They gather to enjoy the wind and the joy together.
Even in moments when tears fall,
Or when smiles are wide,
They share the rice of Hau Giang, the smiles of brotherhood,
Eyes filled with the bright sunshine of the South.
The yellow sunlight, not a divine glow,
But even with cheeks burning in fire,
And brows dripping with sweat,
They do not close the door to joy.
Hands shyly clasp, smiling,
Not in sorrow.
A lifetime of memories,
Do you remember, my love?

Do you remember, my love?
They meet,
They wait for each other,
They welcome each other,
Like the Mekong River,
Returning to the sea.
The hearts of the people are like the water, flowing wildly,
The rain of the heavens pours down, carrying poetry,
The rain of a lifetime washes away forgotten meanings,
Leaving our hearts,
And the blood of Dong Nai,
Beating together in rhythm.

I know:
Some cry for the joy of a promise fulfilled,
Some laugh from the struggles that have faded,
I don’t know how to explain,
But surely, a thousand years of wine will sour,
If not for the warmth that should have been shared.
I don’t know how to explain,
When they meet (I’ve told you before),
Like the Mekong River,
Returning to the sea.
The waves still call, the river flows endlessly,
The Mekong River opens nine gates wide,
The river’s song resounds like an epic...
Yes, the river’s song is strong and unyielding,
So the river flows, filling the eyes of the sea,
The river washes my heart clean,
Waiting for nine lifetimes to pass,
Until today, finally able to sing in the river’s flow,
Until today, finally able to sing on New Year's Day...

Source: Nguyen Sa Poetry, Wind Ensemble Publishing, 1971

I wrote a short poem
Just for you,
To erase a trivial story:
The lives that have grown old!

Because everything pure,
Is built upon something broken.

So I tell you:
The questions,
The whys,
There’s always one star our hearts cannot reach.

And all those questions,
All those ‘who’s,
They only mean one thing: dissolution!

So I write only a very short poem,
A tiny poem,
From eyes that plead:
Do not pull your hand away
From mine,
Like someone pours tea,
Leaving an empty pot after one pour!

Even though around us are walls of jealousy,
On a moonless night,
In a heart with no bottom,
Don’t cry,
For tears are pointless,
Even if our hands drop,
We still trust,
We are still intoxicated,
We still look into each other’s eyes,
To open a vast horizon...

Source: Nguyen Sa Poetry, Wind Ensemble Publishing, 1971

Your smile, a jewelry rich and bright,
Leaping like birds on a dry river's flight.

It’s you on the morning road,
The moon upon your lips, the wind within your soul.

Your hair, a flutter of fifteen leaves,
You throw joy into the streets, like a mountain breeze.

On a green-painted cart, you sketch a boat in parade,
While gardens await your eyes of peace and shade.

You send melodies of clogs resounding in the air,
Promising the clouds will cradle youth with care.

You drape your voice, full of trust, around my soul,
With the sea as hands, and waves as a goal.

And I become an island surrounded in blue,
My eyes, coral depths yearning for sweet water’s view.

Like a cricket’s wings that ache with the morning light,
I watch you drink each drop of dew from flowers bright.

Suddenly, I hear the earth’s pulse beneath my feet,
And remember in my heart, white wings that meet.

Source: Nguyen Sa Poetry, Wind Ensemble Publishing, 1971

You wear a Japanese umbrella, Siamese slippers,
And I remember you, a golden fish.
Fish painted on your dress,
Your dress still lingers in my dreams, still alive in poetry.
During the lotus season, you promised to visit,
And I sit on the grass, feeling love drifting in the air...

The sun in Saigon makes me feel cool
Because you wear a Ha Dong silk dress.
I still love that dress so much,
My poetry still carries the purity of white silk.

I remember you sitting here, with short hair,
While autumn stretches endlessly around us.
My soul hurriedly sketches your portrait,
Quickly placing it in my heart, opening the door.

Every meeting felt like a celebration,
Two days together, a double joy for the soul.
My youthful poems stacked into mountains,
And my dizzy eyes turned to the intoxication of wine.

You don’t speak, but I hear the melody,
You haven’t looked yet, but the sky is already vast.
I’ve gazed at you with faithful eyes,
And with your bare hands, you’ve turned poetry into pure beauty.

You came and went unexpectedly, yet I knew,
The sky suddenly rains, then shines, without reason.
But why did we leave without saying anything?
Only my poetry’s voice echoes in silence.

So I grew angry, my eyes staring awkwardly,
Angry that my poetry spoke what should remain unsaid.
You’ve gone now, and regrets linger on my lips,
Heavy with the weight of days that have passed.

Where are you now, oh autumn with short hair?
Keep safe for me the Ha Dong silk dress.
I still love that dress immensely,
And protect for me the love poem of white silk.

This poem was adapted into a song by composer Ngô Thụy Miên, with the same title.

Source: Nguyên Sa Poetry, Tổ hợp Gió Publishing, 1971

In June, the rain pours endlessly,
If it doesn’t rain, I pray for it to rain.
I pray for the rain to block the way home,
And I ask for the night to last forever.

Don’t worry about your eyes, my love,
Don’t let your fingers touch the folds of your dress.
Don’t ask if the night is already late,
Why fear the night when daylight is near?

Rest your hair on my shoulder while the boat docks,
Look into each other's eyes and warm the rainy night.
Send each other breaths of autumn’s cool wind,
With the gentle breeze and soft golden sunlight.

And speak words that don’t need meaning.

Smile with your eyes, sleep with your shoulder,
Let your lips pour wine into mine.
Hold my hand with trembling fingers,

If the wind is cold, hold my hand tightly.
If the night is late, sleep peacefully.
Let’s turn life into endless honeymoon nights,
If you fear time stretching forever.

In June, the rain pours, do you hear it falling?
If it doesn’t rain, do you still pray for it?
I still ask for rain to block the way home,
And I still pray for rain, even when the sky is grey.

Your skin is white, I don’t need the light,
Your hair is soft, I don’t need spring’s warmth.
In this life, there will be no beauty like you,
For I call you beauty itself.

I’ll stroke your hair until the night is complete,
I’ll lift your hand to press it against my lips.
I’ll whisper like the breeze brushing your shoulder,
I’ll remember forever this June rain.

This poem was adapted into a song by composer Ngô Thụy Miên titled 'Tình khúc tháng sáu' in 1984 and by composer Hoàng Thanh Tâm in 1987.

Source: Nguyên Sa Poetry, Tổ hợp Gió Publishing, 1971