Top 11 Most Beautiful Poems by the Poet Tu Mo

Dung dang dung der
Dancing with the kids

Spring has come

Bright and warm spring light.

White fluffy clouds

Floating in the blue sky

The breeze drifts gently

High and free in the air

The garden stretches wide

Green grass dances around

Peach blossoms bloom bright

The garden of spring feels cozy

Birds chirp cheerfully.

Being a grandfather

Is not an easy task

Knowing how to love children

And letting them feel love;

Knowing how to pamper them

Just the right amount;

Knowing how to teach them

Without using a stick;

Knowing fun games

That children enjoy;

Fairy tales

Knowing many stories;

Telling them in a way

That brings joy;

Knowing how to fold paper

To make a person,

A boat,

A rocket,

A horse,

A stork...

Knowing how to make a cow

For the child to ride;

A new song

Knowing a few tunes,

Teaching the song

And performing;

Knowing how to settle disputes

To make them smart,

To earn affection,

Without being unreasonable.

Children’s nature

Is curious

They ask unexpected questions

Funny and tricky

Who? Why?

How?

Sometimes they stump you...

The grandfather must think

To answer wisely.

The grandfather and grandchild

Two generations

Old and young together,

Young and old together

Joy fills the home

Such happiness!

It's quite odd to see such old men

Acting so young, as if they've regained their youth

With hair dyed black, trying to look younger

Clean-shaven, they appear quite youthful

They play around, yet still strong

They work lazily, playing the role of the elderly

When they see a woman, it's like a cat spotting food

Having many wives, but never enough.

First, it's her hair parted to the side,

Second, her white pants, blouse, and scarf.

Third, her beauty enhanced in the mornings and evenings,

Fourth, her pearly white teeth that shine bright.

Fifth, the Hue comb resting in her hair,

Sixth, her green umbrella with a blue hue.

Seventh, she has plenty of money and wealth,

Eighth, she knows how to use her feminine charm.

Ninth, she stays at home,

Tenth... Well, I’ll just love her for myself...

Source: Tú Mỡ, Giòng nước ngược - Volume I, Trung Bắc Tân Văn, 1934

People fight over money,

Justice doesn't know where to turn.

Loans and debts, unclear agreements,

One person claims innocence, the other guilty.

It's truly a mess, so confusing,

The judge can’t tell who’s innocent or guilty.

They have no choice but to surrender,

To find a lead, they must use divine power.

Give strength to both sides, the defendant and the plaintiff,

To the Hàng Trống temple to swear an oath.

Who is innocent, the divine will let go...

Who is guilty, the divine will strike them down dead.

The Hàng Trống temple? Oh, please,

Let me laugh, it’s a joke to me.

The temple was recently robbed,

Thieves broke in and stole the money chest.

If the deity were truly divine,

She would have made the thief tremble and fall.

So, how can we trust this oath?

People have always lied and prospered as if nothing happened.

Divinity, oh, it’s all a fairy tale!

The oath was made in a hole, who would believe it?

Source: Báo Ngày nay, issue 89, December 12, 1937

At Yen Lac Temple, in Khoai Chau province,

(Such a fitting name, it evokes the perfect sentiment!)

There was a young, beautiful novice nun,

About thirty, at the height of her youthful spring.

Her figure was plump, charming and pleasant,

Her hands delicate as jade, cheeks rosy and fresh.

Though her demeanor seemed full of grace,

She still desired to follow the true path of a monk.

But then one autumn morning,

People noticed the novice nun looking uneasy.

Her belly swollen, round as a drum,

She went to the hospital to deliver her child.

O Bodhisattvas, O Shakyamuni,

Grant your protection to this young nun.

She gave birth to a little monk,

Praise to Amitabha! Mother and child are healthy and safe.

After childbirth, she left the hospital,

Sent her child to the state, and returned to her temple to meditate.

She vowed to meditate… ha, meditate… hmm,

In the serene temple, where the scene is peaceful and calm.

The Buddha’s love, she has now become accustomed to,

Year after year, with her devoted child by her side.

She bore more sons, seven in all,

Each day, her blessings grew more abundant.

Reflecting on the eighth day of April,

If Buddha can be born, why should a monk be shy?

For whom do I pine, whose memory I yearn,

A thread of love entwines my heart,

Six moments I dream of your image, a jewel in my mind,

Five nights I long for your presence, like golden light.

The silkworm’s belly twists in knots, its thread tangled in sorrow,

In dreams through five long nights, I endure the pain of separation.

I want to send a message to you, but who can convey it?

My eyes, weary from waiting, search the Tương river's shores for you.

Ông bị đau chân

Nó sưng nó tấy

Đi phải chống gậy

Khập khiễng, khập khà

Bước lên thềm nhà

Nhấc chân quá khó

Thấy ông nhăn nhó

Việt chơi ngoài sân

Lon ton lại gần,

Âu yếm, nhanh nhảu:

“Ông vịn vai cháu,

Cháu đỡ ông lên.”

Ông bước lên thềm

Trong lòng sung sướng

Quẳng gậy, cúi xuống

Quên cả đớn đau

Ôm cháu xoa đầu:

“Hoan hô thằng bé!

Bé thế mà khoẻ

Vì nó thương ông.”

Đôi mắt sáng trong

Việt ta thủ thỉ:

“Ông đau lắm nhỉ?

Khi nào ông đau

Ông nhớ lấy câu

Bố cháu vẫn dạy

Nhắc đi nhắc lại:

- Không đau! Không đau!

Dù đau đến đâu,

Khỏi ngay lập tức.”

Tuy chân đang nhức,

Ông phải phì cười:

“Ừ, ông theo lời

Thử xem có nghiệm”

Ông bèn nói liền:

“Không đau! Không đau!”

Và ông gật đầu:

“Khỏi rồi! Tài nhỉ!”

Việt ta thích chí:

“Cháu đã bảo mà...!”

Và móc túi ra:

“Biếu ông cái kẹo!”

Nửa đầu của bài thơ này được trích giảng trong sách giáo khoa cấp I trong nhiều năm.

Nguồn: Định Hải, Hương cốm, NXB Kim Đồng, 1975

Oh, Mrs. Tu! Oh, Mrs. Tu!

So, it turns out you've passed on, is it true?

I thought I was dreaming, some dreadful nightmare,

Rising up to wake from this terrible dream.

I woke, but you were nowhere to be found,

Not a trace of you, no sign of you returning tomorrow.

No trace of that gentle figure,

Though you were nearing seventy's age,

Still healthy, full of joy, lively,

Quick and spry, like the days of youth.

Looking behind me, I mistakenly thought

It was some young maiden, fresh and youthful.

And yet, death came unexpectedly

And took you away, leaving me deeply sorrowful!

Since the day we tied the knot,

Nearly fifty years have passed.

Loyal to each other, in harmony,

Our family was blessed, a peaceful home.

With you as my devoted wife,

I felt so lucky, so fortunate!

We lived in poverty together,

Our marriage built on the foundation of love.

I remember when I lay in bed,

You whispered sweet words of love to me.

"If I die, you will suffer,

Because, as the old saying goes,

Children may care for their fathers,

But no one does it like a wife cares for her husband."

"Oh, don't worry, my dear,

Let your spirit rest in peace,

I'll be taken care of by our children,

They'll always honor and care for you."

I may be sad, but it's only because

You're gone, and the house feels empty,

Sad when I wake in the night

To find the bed cold, lying alone.

I grieve when I remember how we'd share

A cup of tea and talk in the mornings.

Now I can't find you anywhere,

Only the altar with a cup of sorrow left behind.

It's painful when I go out to the yard,

See the empty garden, the vast space,

While you are gone, forever away,

The fresh betel nuts left to rot, no one to eat them.

I ache when I see the betel box still there,

Its leaves dry, its nuts shriveled up.

Three feet of earth now bury your body,

Leaving only memories of the days we shared.

As I reflect on our comfortable life,

I thought we'd grow old together forever,

But fate had other plans,

You left, leaving me with sorrow and tears.

Oh! Such is the way of destiny,

Years have passed, but my love for you remains strong!

You went ahead, and I'll follow behind,

But for now, I must say goodbye, forcing a smile through the sadness.

You are gone, but I still remain,

There’s still work to be done, just a little more to do,

Once everything is finished,

I will join you in the afterlife, together once again...

(19-11-1968)

Among all the "noble dishes",

Pho is the most cherished gift of life.

A few coins, no matter how much they cost,

And yet it offers every flavor: sweet, savory, fragrant, rich, and nutritious.

Rice rolls, beef slices, and broth enriched with oil and herbs,

Garnished with fresh herbs and chopped onions.

Fish sauce, pepper, vinegar, and chili add a delightful touch,

Steam rises, filling the air with a fragrant aroma.

It stirs deep within, reaching the heart and soul,

It awakens the hunger within.

Even the finest delicacies can’t compare,

Sometimes a bowl of pho can satisfy like no other.

The rich and the poor alike,

Who has ever tasted it and not loved it?

The scholar, the judge, hurrying from dawn to dusk,

A breakfast of pho is all they need for a fulfilling day.

The hardworking laborer finds relief in a hot bowl,

And poets find inspiration while sipping its warmth...

Actors and musicians, taking a break,

Enjoy pho to rejuvenate their spirits.

Women, working from dawn to dusk,

Find their beauty preserved with a nourishing bowl of pho.

Pho is a powerful tonic, better than ten doses of traditional medicine,

Cinnamon, ginseng, and deer velvet may not surpass it.

Pho nourishes the body in every way,

Strengthening the organs, limbs, and circulation.

Laborers, earning their living,

Consider pho an unmatched remedy for their weary bodies.

Even kings and nobles, who feast on exotic dishes,

Are incomplete without a bowl of pho.

Never underestimate pho as humble fare,

Even in Paris, it’s embraced as a culinary gem.

Alongside gourmet dishes from around the world,

It’s tasty and affordable, often served at local eateries.

To live life without pho would be unwise,

For when we part, we must offer it as a final tribute.

Come, try it once, and you’ll crave it forever.

Source: Pre-war Vietnamese Poets, Nguyễn Tấn Long & Nguyễn Hữu Trọng, Xuân Thu reprint, 2000