Top 15 Beautiful Poems by the Poet Ngô Quang Tuấn

A SEASON WITHOUT YOU

The season without you brings me endless sorrow,

As restless nights drift by, sleep eludes me,

The season without you makes the waves grow fierce,

Crashing violently, tearing the shore apart.

The season without you leaves only memories,

Lonely nights, I sigh, who can hear me?

The season without you stretches the journeys long,

I thought they'd bring comfort, but they only bring more pain.

The season without you leaves nothing but remnants,

But your image, forever etched in my heart.

SEARCHING FOR HOME

The boat of the evening drifts quietly across the river,

Fog surrounds everything, the shore is out of sight,

Silver-white hair flows, carefree and naive,

I return to search for the childhood I once knew.

As light as a fleeting dream,

The evening mist wets my clothes as the boat sways gently,

My mind is tangled, filled with countless worries,

My heart is uneasy, consumed by fear all around me.

For so long, the smile has faded,

Perhaps it’s meant to be saved for the one I love.

The evening boat approaches the trembling shore,

And my homeland warms me on these cold winter nights.

OLD STREET

You returned to the old street on that autumn afternoon,

Suddenly, the rustling sound of fallen leaves filled the air,

The neighbors told me you went to the borderlands,

Up with the reed flowers, among the hills and valleys.

The old street felt empty without familiar faces,

Before the night had fully fallen, the lights were already on,

People coming and going, like a bustling fair,

Yet I felt lost, standing alone in a place I knew so well.

Your house was locked, no lights shining through the windows,

Yellow leaves had covered the familiar path,

Out of nowhere, I longed to hear your voice,

Just one word, just one “Em” (You).

A POEM WRITTEN ON A HIGH MOUNTAIN

It’s been a while since the cold has made me shiver,

The house feels deserted, cold air surrounds me from every side,

The kitchen fire has dwindled to a faint glow,

Outside, the garden is blanketed with snow, covering every branch and tree.

I scoop up a handful of snow,

Snow falls between my thin fingers, pale and trembling,

This poem is written on a high mountain,

On a snowy night, sent to you as a gift.

I regret that we never truly met,

Exchanging only glances and forgetting to make promises.

Snow falls, turning the bird's wings silver,

My heart beats restlessly, tormented by love.

LOVING MOTHER

The cold outside is biting, Mother,

Is your coat and scarf enough to keep you warm?

I’ve returned to Yen Bai, the rain falls relentlessly,

The wind from Khê mountain blows over here.

Light drizzle falls all day long,

And I worry that you might be cold, your hands aching, your head heavy.

Years of rain and sorrowful winds,

Fields have replaced the oxen, as we till the soil with our own hands.

You’ve raised children and cared for grandchildren,

And still, your shoulders bear the weight of so many tasks.

Years of toil, fading away with time,

Time never shows mercy to anyone.

At 84, your eyes are dim,

Your hands shake, and your body has grown frail and weak.

Your bowl is never empty, but you still carry the load,

I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with love for you, Mother.

THE LONELY SWAN

The love poems I wrote on the borderlands,

Were never sent to you before the New Year came,

The peach blossoms bloom bright in the border’s land,

But my heart yearns for the New Year down below.

You’re sitting, boiling cakes, thinking of distant days,

The red fire beneath the pot mirrors the blush of your lips,

As you stir the embers, drawing pictures of separation,

I miss you deeply, we’ve been apart for many New Years now.

We are like two swans living in solitude,

One in the mountains, the other down below,

Our love compressed into a few days of the New Year,

Restlessly waiting, hoping the swans will be reunited.

Ngô Quang Tuấn

THE DRIZZLING RAIN

At midnight, the sky pours down the drizzling rain,

The village path is muddy, just like before.

I think of Mother on such rainy days,

The coat and scarf can never protect her from the cold, out in the fields.

The cold wind tightens the heart,

Mother bends her back to finish tilling the field.

Sometimes dizziness and fatigue take hold,

Her raincoat soaked as she sits by the riverbank.

Her stomach grumbles as she sips a little tea,

Eating boiled sweet potatoes with a heavy heart.

I feel so much for her hunched back,

Her husband and children are lost to the battlefield, never to return.

She toils alone, walking the dyke path,

The drizzle dampens her conical hat upon her head.

Her heart is full of sorrow,

And her bent back carries the weight of a rain-filled sky.

THE LOVE POEM I WROTE IN A TRANCE

The cold wind of winter chills to the bone

I wait for you but you never come

Alone, I sit beside the easel

In a gloomy world, the colors of the rural scene dull

This love poem I wrote in a trance

I offer it to you, feeling clumsy

All my love is captured in these words

Through winding paths of clouds, I wonder if you know

Ngô Quang Tuấn

THE LAST NIGHT OF THE YEAR

On the last night of the year, I silently write a poem

It’s just me, lost and foolish, isn’t it?

Only I bear this smoldering pain

Who can I turn to for quiet consolation?

On the last night of the year, the constellation of the North Star is absent

I burn myself with rays of hope

The love verse suddenly becomes intense

Like your kiss before you left me

I still know life is fragile

We gave everything to each other

But once you left, my heart was filled with sorrow

The love verse now encapsulates all the passing years

LONGING

You returned to the lowlands, forgetting the forest

Leaving me to count each full and waning moon

The night in Sapa, blanketed in snow, is serene

The fire burns brightly, but still cannot warm me

It has been so long, it’s become a familiar habit

Every night, I drift into strange dreams

I know that we are now distant strangers

We exchange stolen glances through the foggy window

Reading your poems, I suddenly know your name

The old verses linger, fueling my longing

Day after day, I gaze out the window

Waiting for you, through sleepless nights and dreams

THE LOVE POEM ON THE LAST DAY OF THE YEAR

For TM

The last afternoon of the year, even the sun feels pale

The wind blows fiercely, pushing clouds towards the mountains

With a touch of sadness, I wait for your smile

As you send it to me, I hold on to it

For many years, I’ve been stuck in this loop

Still, the sadness lingers, making me quiet

Now, love poems have turned into desires

To love you, and for you to love me

I look in the mirror and see more gray in my hair

But why do we still love each other so deeply?

The last afternoon of the year, a brief farewell

Winter has passed, and spring brightens our love

SPRING RAIN IN HANOI

Hanoi in the early spring

The drizzle fills the empty streets

Alone, I sit in silence

Watching the rain dance over the lake

The sorrow is like raindrops

Soaking deep into every strand of hair

The longing stirs like the ripples on the water

Shaking my very soul

A sky full of falling rain

Bitterness follows endlessly

No tree or plant stands still

When the storm rages through the sky

The rain that falls into the river

And the drops that fall onto the fields

Through the cycle of life

It returns as spring rain once more

LONGING FOR THE BRANCH OF PLUM BLOSSOM

The afternoon casts a careless ray of sunlight

It rolls across my shoulder, and I suddenly remember you

The New Year comes, with peach and kumquat trees competing for attention

My heart feels cold, missing you in my life

Outside, laughter fills the air

People bustle around celebrating, but my heart is heavy

Spring wraps the world in a green embrace

But here I am, silently loving only the plum branch

The spring afternoon feels bittersweet, full of anticipation

The sun sparkles, bathing the sky in the glow of budding flowers

Yet I remain lost in my thoughts

Hoping the plum blossom will bloom pure and bright inside me

THE AGED MOTHER

The aged mother with her worn-out conical hat

In a torn raincoat, walking along a distant road

Spinning silk from the heart of the cocoon

Many nights, her tears soaked the pillow

She carried hardships on her shoulders

Raising me, facing life's struggles without complaint

Forgetting the years of her youth

Enduring hardship all year round, all for me

Now, my mother lives in two places

Half in the countryside, half in another city far from home

She fears the unpredictable weather

When she's sick or in pain, I can't return in time

Fame and fortune are like a spell

How can I break free and return to you, Mother?

VISIT TO MY WIFE'S GRAVE II

This morning I visited your grave

As the days before Tết, people crowded the streets

The grass on your grave is still lush and green

The smoke from the incense swirls, stirring my heart

There, a teardrop glistens

Falling onto the grass, a gift I offer you

Spring has arrived at the doorstep

The incense burns, echoing my sorrow

Three springs have passed, leaving me in longing

A thousand days apart, the bed is now covered with moss

The incense burns out, tracing curves in the air

You’ve returned to celebrate Tết with your husband and children