Top 15 Beautiful Poems by Poet Lâm Thị Mỹ Dạ

I love the folk tales of my country
Kind and deep in wisdom
They teach us to care for others before ourselves
Even when far apart, love will always find its way
If you live righteously, goodness will come to you
The good will meet the righteous and the divine will bless them
Carrying these tales with me
I hear the whispers of ancient wisdom in life
The golden heat of the sun, the white coolness of rain
The river flowing with rows of leaning coconut trees
From the lives of our ancestors to mine
Like the river and the distant horizon
Only the folk tales remain deep and pure
Reminding me of my forebears
Wise, fair, compassionate, and loving
Those who work hard will be rewarded
Those who follow others’ whims will achieve nothing.

I hear the whispers of folk tales
Passed down from our ancestors, teaching us for future generations.
Rich with the symbolism of betel and areca
The red betel piece, heavy with human affection.
Though time will carry us away
The folk tales remain, forever fresh, radiating with conscience.

Like rice asking the soil
Is he good?
Like trees asking the wind
Is he good?
Like clouds asking the sky
Is he good?

The sky he has is vast
My clouds float and soar
The wind he has is boundless
The trees caress me gently
The earth he has is deep
The rice bows its head
But still it asks
Restless in the heart
Is he good?

Only the Queen of the Night has
That pure white hue
So pristine, innocent
Unmistakable and pure

The life of the flower is sweetly fragrant
But does the bee know this?
The flower blooms in silence
Quietly slipping into the deep night

Shy yet proud
The flower tilts beneath the moonlight
Like a small swan flock
Ready to soar into the sky

I suddenly forget, drifting to sleep
Letting the moment pass
The moment the Queen of the Night blooms
How can it be found again?

The moment the Queen of the Night blooms
What is it like, oh moon?
What is it like, oh stars?
What is it like, oh wind?

That moment passes by
And time arrives first
How can I ask for it back?
Ask for the flower to bloom once more

Each petal folds back
The flower wilts softly into sleep
Oh, the moment the flower gives itself
My soul was too slow to pluck!

My soul was too slow to pluck
Time never stops its march
A moment left forgotten
It means it is lost

To a time of youthful girlhood

Your life, I will tightly fold
And cast it into your life
It will roll deep to the very bottom of your life
Deep until... death itself

Oh my God
How can there be a life
For me to throw my own life into
Without hesitation or doubt
Wondering: is this life not yet enough...

Raindrop
Glistening
Flying swiftly
Flying swiftly...

The basin
Waits
The land
Awaits
The seed
Starts to speak
Calling for rain
Calling for rain...

The child opens
His hands
The raindrop
Becomes the stamen
The child's hands
Become a flower

From the sky
To the ground
The rain connects
Both ends
The raindrop
So tiny
Measuring
The sky above

Friend, do you see
In the child's hands
There is a long road
From the sky
To the earth

Friend, do you see
So small
Like a star
In the hands
Of the child
The raindrop
Shakes gently
As if still
Remembering someone

Dearly gifted to the Women's Poetry Club of Nha Trang

From the deep blue sea, wild and untamed
It comes back here - the river, crystal clear at its source
Countless fates of poetry seek beauty
Wandering through every bitterness, joy, and sorrow
Fates of heavenly silk
Fate of the wind
Fate of the fragrance of flowers
Fate of the raindrop
So fragile, how can one carry
The heavy burden of poetry from times past

Women writing poetry face endless struggles
It sinks deep like sand, invisible
Sinking through it all
Absorbing until it overflows
Poetic emotions
Weeping for the fate of clouds, silk...

Women writing poetry face endless struggles
It sinks deep like sand, invisible
No corner of life untouched
Sharing with you as you tread lightly...

1.

The dewdrop
Like a distant, peaceful stillness
A fragile, quiet calm
Waves shimmer
Then shatter
The stillness of Humanity

2.

The dewdrop
The sorrow of children, the joy of adults
Then you will break apart
Under the sun

If it must break apart
Let it break apart
Under the sun
The dewdrop says...
I hear...

3.

When spring arrives
The heart, like a dewdrop
Within the leaf of happiness
Quivers
Pure
Echoing...

Imagine a person
With a soul as green as grass
A heart as vast as the sky
Allowing me, small as I am
To wander freely through life

Imagine a person
Silent as a statue
With pain and joy
Hidden deep within
Smart, subtle
Diving within

Imagine a person
With a noble heart
When I stumble
They lift me up
Leaning against their chest
Endless love and trust

A dry, barren desert
That person, like an oasis
Healing all thirst
Turning into gentleness

Imagine a person
As pure as the earth
Enduring all bitterness
Yet offering sweetness
The fruit of that person, I pick
My heart full of budding joy

Imagine a person
Tolerant, resilient
Allowing me to bury my face
And cry openly once
Crying like a child
Not hiding the tears!

Imagine a person
Alright, let’s imagine…

How can you be deep enough
To reflect all of my shadow?

How can you be wide enough
To shield my life?

How can you be tall enough
To see all of me...

Life is full of hardships
Life is also full of tenderness

The woman steps forward
The woman steps back

Oh, is it true
That to be a woman

One must be small
Small like a doll
Only then will happiness come?

People go to the Tet market to buy real chickens
I buy a childhood clay chicken
The clay chicken now lies in the earth
Its crowing still fresh, echoing in the sky

Suddenly, a rainbow flies before my eyes
Hundreds of beautiful flowers whisper dreams
Among the flowers, a little angel
A girl with black eyes fluttering, waiting...

At times, my soul carries the color of the Phai street
Quiet roof tiles, still walls
This morning's weather feels like seventeen
Branches and leaves open, confused by the fragrance.

The American mother extends her trembling hand
Searching for her child's name among a sea of millions
The black wall - the souls of the fallen
The names - the people
The lives
Have turned to smoke
Have turned to dust
Have turned to wind
Have turned to mist
Have turned to wounds
In the chest of the mother - the American mother!

I reach out my hand
Touching each name
Why does my heart ache with pain!

Could it be
That I have come here with the heart of a mother
Weeping with the American mother who lost her child
Could it be
That I have embodied that mother
The mother who cried for her son for decades
Her tears have withered but never grow old
Falling upon delicate flowers of remembrance
Her tears are like drops of fire
Burning
She still weeps for him
The American soldier who was drafted
To Vietnam in the war

Every spring
She brings flowers to her son
Each finger
Touches her son's name
The son, 19 years old
Flowers of nineteen years,
Her son's flowers
Take them, my child...
She imagines...
Her eyes full of pleading, begging
Then softly, gently calling
She calls her son's name
With a fluttering, hopeful heart
She calls her son's name with longing
Doney will step forward - his head resting on her chest
Her chest has hidden
A heart
Heavier than the earth!

And as the evening shadows hear her call
The call sweet, fervent, choked with grief
My child! Doney L. Jackson,
I brought sandwiches
The ones you loved as a child!

Here, only the color of night remains
The sunrises are dead
The youthful green is gone
Along with evil, misunderstanding, and innocence
The souls have dimmed...
But
Look closely
The names of people are bleeding
Look closely
The names of people are bleeding
Look closely
The black wall is a wound
Lying silently in the heart of America
Painful
Never to heal

The distant childhood, the village market
As a child, crossing the river, holding my mother's clothes
Mushrooms, vegetables, fresh shrimp and fish
Glutinous rice heaped up as others passed by

I wandered, lost, at the morning market
Pineapple, guava, sweet berries, fragrant strawberries, whose steps are those?
Curious, I saw an old man I didn’t know
His hands full of fans, walking on and on

He invited, yet no one bought
He bent his back, making fans for many seasons
The old man in his dark robe, with a silk beard
He'd walked around a few times, and it was already midday

Stop for a moment, old fan seller,
Let me buy a few to play with
The old man, in his true voice, looked at me and said:
- You should only use one, young one!

With the money my mother gave me for treats
I bought all the fans from the old man
Embracing the wind with joy
Every step felt like my soul singing

Now, the distant market of childhood
The scent of fruit, the smell of herbs still lingers
Fish and shrimp still hopping in the water
And I, still a child, dreaming every time...

Now, the distant morning market
Age has bent my back, hair turned gray
Oh, the fan seller of eternal rest
Why does the wind inside me keep blowing on?

It is said that: she, the girl who cleared the path
To save the road from harm that night
To ensure the convoy could make it in time for battle
She lit the flame of patriotism within herself
Diverting the enemy's bombs...

Our unit marched through the path
Coming across the bomb crater, recalling the girl
A grave, the sun shining brightly on the stones
Love and compassion, growing higher...

I looked down at the crater that claimed her life
The rain gathered in a small patch of sky
Our country is kind
The heavens soothe the wounds of pain

She lies deep beneath the earth
As if the sky has settled there, too
Every night, her spirit shines bright
The stars glowing, shimmering
Could it be that her soft, pure skin
Has transformed into the white clouds?
And during the day, the sky is filled with sunlight
As I walk through the sky she left behind
- The sun lingers
Oh sun, or is it your heart inside your chest
That shines on me
Guiding me as I continue this long journey?

The road bears her name
Her death painted the sky with the color of a girl
I reflect on my life through hers

Her face, my friends don’t know
So each person has a unique face of hers!

The first time we met
You complimented how beautiful my gaze was

The rain poured, and then came the sun
You praised the rosy glow on my cheeks

When I saw a disabled person, I cried
You admired my sensitivity

When lightning struck, I feared the storm
You marveled at how gentle I was!

When I cared for a child with tenderness
You complimented how gentle I am

When I kissed a beautiful verse
I pressed the book to my chest
I heard my heart beat faster
Grieving for the poet who had passed
Where is the heart now?

When I read a sad life story
My heart ached, full of sorrow
You praised me for being so emotional
And many more things...? – You praised me

I fear your compliments
Like the fear of the evening light fading
Sometimes, sitting alone in sadness
I blame you for being so shallow

Show me my flaws
So I can be a better person
Show me my faults
So I can take better care of you

Do you know, my love?
Your praise leaves me so sad
Love is so demanding
Oh please, don’t compliment me

The sea and sky gaze at each other
So the stars return to the waves
The sea grows wider with the sky
The blue sky adds to the sea’s depth

Wherever the sun rises
It rises from the sea
It is where light begins
Spreading millions of circles of love

Oh, Sea! So deep and vast
Rolling endlessly without a word
Oh, Sea, let me ask
When did you become salty?

Pick up the golden shell
The waves crash to the shore
The things that come easily
Do they ever last long?

The sea sinks into the night
Letting the horizon light up again
Longing for something new
We push the boat into the sea
Despite the storms and hardships
We don’t fear the sea!