Top 10 Most Beautiful Poems by Poet Ý Nhi

The noisy rain of summer

The gentle rain of spring

In March, the rainy days renew

The canopy of blooming purple flowers

The dryness that once scorched

Feels cool after the rain

The trees and leaves in the afternoon garden

Breathe deeply, full of life

Do you still remember

That first rainy season?

The little stream by the doorstep

Suddenly swells with floodwaters

Do you still remember

The winter rains on the hills

The wildflowers swaying in the wind

The long hill and the Double Stream

Or is it only me

That still remembers, year after year

Like remembering the bonfire

Like remembering the sun

Bright and everlasting

Close yet distant.

I can never forget

What we once shared

That created the flame

Through all our lives

Even if it was just a rainstorm

I can never forget.

(1976)

On the road from one frontline to another

The soldier passes through a large city

This giant, chaotic, and bustling city

Suddenly stands still before him

The trees along the road are quietly green

The tram cars glide down the narrow streets

No engine noise, the train races swiftly

And the people walk silently beneath the high buildings

They cry, laugh, part ways, and wait for each other

He senses everything through their gazes

But the conversations, he cannot hear

He does not hear the cries or the laughter

Oh, the everyday life unfolds before him

Just as he had always longed for

But this is just a dream

It is something he cannot yet reach

He never has enough time

In the shelters, in the bunkers

He spends his days in the fire of battle

Through fever, hunger, and the threat of enemy fire

He holds the battle flag tightly in his hands

He has thought about death

Just as many times as he has thought about life

The train’s whistle sounds like an alarm

He turns to look at the city

And a brief farewell crosses his face

At the station gate

The ticket inspector hands him a small cardboard piece, shouting the explanation

This is the payment receipt for the trip

He smiles

Nonchalantly slips the train ticket into his chest pocket.

2-1984

Source: The Literature of a Time to Remember (Poetry), Literary Publishing House, 2006

I have traveled so far now

And yet, when I turn back, I still see the city lights

Beyond the forests, past the isles, the vast ocean

A light shines, reaching me

And my heart swells with love and sorrow

As I think of your life, Mother

As I remember our small house

You alone, watching over me

Amid the everyday rains and sunshine of life

There were times I was indifferent

When I thought my own happiness was all that mattered

As if only my pain and sorrow existed

Through all the years of comings and goings

There were moments when my heart grew cold

Forgetting things I thought I could never forget

Like a full stomach forgetting its hunger

Why does my heart tighten tonight

As I see the city lights

The place where you live, where you laugh and cry

Only your hair grows grayer with time

Why does my heart ache tonight, so far away

When I think of your life’s struggles

Of the loss and longing that reside in your heart

Your life, like a quiet shore by the river

Welcoming boats that seek shelter from the storm

Like a tree that forgets itself in the fruit it bears

When the fruit ripens, who remembers the tree?

Like the sky patiently enduring behind the clouds

The little road that leads to our home

I wish I had words that could touch your heart

To comfort you in your old age, these passing years.

Đà Nẵng - Hà Nội, 11-1978

Source: The Literature of a Time to Remember (Poetry), Literary Publishing House, 2006

Sometimes

We are like a bucket dropped deep into the well

Continuously hitting

Hitting against the earth’s edge

Until, at last

Only a small scoop of water remains.

Sometimes

We are like the child selling noodle soup on the street

Constantly tapping two thin wooden sticks

Then listening to the familiar dry, crisp sound

We have forgotten the journey

No longer waiting

For the call of customers.

Sometimes

We are like a mountaineer taking a dangerous risk

Not because we are weak

Not because we lack courage

But because the mountain crumbles

No one can hold onto the empty space.

Sometimes

We long for

Fifteen years old again

Crossing Bính Ferry

Riding a horse-drawn cart to Thủy Nguyên

Singing sad songs

Before knowing what sadness was.

Sometimes

Our eyes suddenly well up with tears.

Source: The Literature of a Time to Remember (Poetry), Literary Publishing House, 2006

The clinking sound of the cart wheels

Heading towards Dai Tu

Making its way to Luc Ba

The clinking sound again

The ox walks leisurely

The ox carries red tiles

To cover my school

The school blooms like flowers

In the midst of the green forest

The ox carries flowered fabric

To sew new clothes

Thuy and Yen

Smiling faces, beaming bright

The ox still carries salt

For mother to cook soup

A bowl of fresh crab soup

Golden bricks, so rich and tasty

The ox is truly skilled

Carrying even hoes and knives

Chị Loan works the field

Chopping trees loudly

Then one day

The American plane burned

Catch the enemy pilot

Sitting on the ox cart

The ox moves slowly

Its horns proudly raised.

Source: Định Hải, Hương Cốm, NXB Kim Đồng, 1975

I stood frozen in awe before the deep blue sea,

so vast, so endless, just like the boundless sky and trees.

But it wasn't quite that, something unique and strange,

this strange, deep blue of the Central Coast waves.

It shifts and changes as you travel along the shore,

sometimes fleeing, sometimes beckoning with playful calls,

and with each bend, the waves rise unexpectedly,

filling the air with a glow like the innocent eyes of a child.

For a moment, there's a trace of quiet longing,

as day ends and the darkness of twilight falls.

A hint of unease, as the horizon stretches so wide,

yet it is peaceful and immensely freeing.

This is what the ocean has given me the most—

my heart moved by the rugged, barren land.

The poor soil, the withered plants of the central plains,

the fields are narrow, the long beaches blinding white.

Skinny sweet potatoes, the low-roofed homes,

the long roads winding through the wild fields,

the land struggles with countless worries and hardships,

yet it gives generously to those of the sea.

Source: Poetry by Ý Nhi, Publisher: Hội nhà văn, 2000

The mist rises like smoke, veiling the rooftops,

The moon floats vaguely through the green leaves of trees.

The streetlights flicker on, like stars returning home,

Strangers drift by, caught between waking and dreams...

Who passes through the streets tonight, I wonder?

In the sound of the changing wind, in the rustling of the leaves,

In this familiar place, where nothing feels out of place,

Why does my heart long to express my love so deeply?

Source: Winter in Poetry, A Collection of Works by Various Authors, Publisher: Hội nhà văn, 2007

In the chilly afternoon

A woman sits knitting by the window

Her movements calm yet hurried

Calm as if this were a task for eternity

Hasty as if this were the last time

She does not sigh

She does not smile

She keeps her sorrow hidden

Or perhaps, her happiness

Her heart is full of faith

Or doubt

She never looks up

She is caught in a moment before a meeting

Or after a farewell

In her knitting lies a secret joy or silent worry

In her eyes, are they filled with disillusionment or hope?

In the cold afternoon

A woman sits knitting by the window

At her feet

A ball of yarn, green like a small sphere

Rolling slowly in circles.

1-1984

Source: Literature of a Remembered Time (Poetry), NXB Literature, 2006

1. In the final flash of destiny's light,

I caught a glimpse of you.

In the endless cycle of fate's turning,

I arrived at the very place where you were.

Oh, what a glorious moment.

Quietly, I smiled and laughed,

silently breaking apart.

I became a leaf, a mist, a flame.

I called out in silence,

pleaded quietly,

waited in silence,

and quietly burst into tears.

Oh, what a glorious moment.

2.

I dreamed of you in the night

until the morning came.

Then, I saw you in my dream while cooking,

while washing clothes,

I dreamed of you on the busy street,

through familiar trees,

past unfamiliar faces.

I dreamed of you while reading,

while smiling,

while asking someone a question,

while answering someone,

when I said no,

when I said yes.

I never shared my dreams with anyone,

for who could understand, except you,

who also connects with this world through a dream.

3.

I am the warbler,

nestled in the tangled grass,

my song forever lingering in your tune.

I am the matchstick,

quietly resting

in the porcelain ashtray,

while the flame flickers on the tip of your finger.

I am the boat,

its bow beneath the pines,

while the sea carries us far away.

Always thrown back,

always,

as I dream of

the flame,

the song,

and the sea.

4.

You are immersed in my hair,

in my eyes,

on my shoulders,

on the tips of my fingers.

You blend into my longing for the sea,

in the dream of a golden hill covered in daisies.

You blend in,

in the silent tear,

in the words I never spoke.

You blend in

in the wind and sun outside,

in the grass and trees,

in the late afternoon rain.

5.

A star has risen in the sky,

like a tear

in the depth of my eyes as we part.

I turned to look at the garden,

at the sunlight leaving traces on the trees,

like watermarks

from some forgotten day,

spilling over streets and shores,

a burst of joy like golden sunshine.

I turned to look

at the night sea,

at waves rising like fire,

only to fade away,

fading on the sand,

and hiding in a peaceful sleep.

I turned to look at the road,

oh, how many joys,

how many sorrows,

where has the crescent moon gone in the grass,

where has the footstep passed the narrow path?

I turned to look

at my own face,

in the mirror,

like an old photograph

from a day of tender memories.

This poem was adapted into a song by composer Phu Quang.

The train has passed

The whistle blows without care

The gray smoke fades away above the trees and grass

As it moves through the red lands

The pine groves, the fields beside the road

Only I know Quảng Bình

And suddenly understand, this is the land I cherish

After the long silence, no promises made

I am startled, this is my homeland

I suddenly realize the truth in my heart through the years

Through the rivers, the forests, the cities

Through all the partings, the reunions

I have returned to my own land

I have returned to the sand dunes with winds

Where you died at the age of eighteen

Where the bombs exploded, leaving Đồng Hới barren

You built the roads, patched clothes, with golden hair

I have returned to the stony hills, no trees for shade

The harsh sun beats on the military bunkers

I softly sing the song of the grass blade

My eyes gaze far toward the horizon

I have returned to the time of my youth

A sip of Sim leaf water in the Quảng Trạch afternoon

A night by the sea, waiting for the boat, unable to sleep

Thinking the wind just changed direction beneath the pine trees

My feet tread through thorns on the long path

The white Lao flowers follow the trail of people

The bright red Peony, the purple Chạc Chìu flowers

The soldiers march back, the familiar yellowed grass

You say something, a little boy in a black shirt

I merge with the colors, with the voices

I feel stunned, anxious, waiting

The flag flutters proudly in front of the soldiers

The long night listens to the enemy's gunfire from the south

My heart follows the river Bến Hải back to its source

The land opens beneath the steady steps

The sky is blue, longing in our eyes

The days of trust, love, and hope

The hands open to meet those of friends

I suddenly understand that life holds some truths

There are things we don’t notice right away

There are matters, important and grand

We only recognize when returning to the old land

When the train has passed, only I remain

And I am startled, this is my homeland.

7-1979