Top 20 Beautiful Poems by Poet Chu Minh Khôi

The River of Childhood
Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

The sky is blue toward the sea
But I am blue as I look to the river of my homeland
The evening breeze carries the scent of purple water hyacinth
Now, my childhood floats on a fragile boat.

Rowing memories down the river of childhood
Endless years flowing on
The moon’s rim erodes at the river's edge
Each dip of the paddle is a scoop of the village's river water.

Taking autumn to wash the river's hair
Using water hyacinths to dye the river’s eyes purple
The river carries my breath toward the sea
Calmly passing through vows once made.

At night, trust plunges hands into a deep dream
The green bamboo bank no longer combs its hair
Poetry falls into autumn
The lullaby of my mother scatters across the quiet riverbank.

Rowing memories down the river of childhood
Endless years flowing on
At sixteen, I washed my hair with lemongrass leaves
The scent of the river still lingers today.

The river curves into the dream's embrace
Leaving only one bank for the water to flow
I foolishly grasp the whirl of wind
Completely eroding, I build a faraway bank.

(Published in Văn Nghệ Trẻ Magazine, 2003)

A Letter to My Homeland
Poem by Chu Minh Khoi

My homeland is poor
Dreams and hopes burden my heart
Dry leaves fall gently on the thatched roof
The bamboo grove stands tall, shrouded in evening mist.

I reluctantly leave behind a time of love
Childhood days spent flying kites up to the clouds
My thoughts burning bright, reaching to the farthest sky
My mother says, 'We are poor; don't dream too far
The moon above is out of reach.'

The little girl, barefoot and weary
Wades through the mud, her feet covered with leeches
She tears at the roots of the thatch
Silent tears fall like the endless rain.

I try writing poems with the purple water hyacinth
She asks, 'What is a water hyacinth?
It must be beautiful, right brother?'

My heart heavy, I remain silent
Watching her chop up the hyacinths – crushing them into my poem.

My homeland is poor
Dreams and hopes burden my heart
Many young girls never have a childhood
At seventeen, they marry, leaving behind their joys and sorrows
And you, too
At seventeen, you'll marry as well.

I leave home, chasing my dreams
Burdened with worries that weigh on my mother's shoulders
And you
The years watch over you
The poor village with its thatched roofs
And the sorrow that fills my heart.

(Published in the Văn Nhân Magazine - Nam Định Writers' Association, 1996)

One day
Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

One day, everything will fade away
The cicadas cry in hoarse voices
The farewell notes etched in the open sky
The roll call book closed, marking an era gone.

Oh romance, let it fly to the heavens
Through the ages of youth and friendship
How suddenly the flame tree bursts into red
The violet ink returns the green years gone by.

One day, someone will call me brother
I will be proud to be an adult
The girls will no longer be bold
They’ll be gentle, for all have grown beautiful.

One day, even if I become an adult
Before the soft summer, I’ll still be small
Let the cicadas cry their sorrowful farewell
The flame tree burns in the red sky, marking a distant past.

Source: The Crimson Phoenix (Anthology of Poems), NXB Đồng Nai, 1997

To the South
Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

You’re heading South
So I send a little gift of milk flower scent
Please wrap up some autumn chill as well
Let the northern winds find their way there, where can they?

Do you still remember the old garden’s fragrance?
I’d climb up, and you’d stand below, asking for some
I’d refuse, and you’d threaten to tell your mother
Then, I’d shiver, and you’d take a whole bunch of sour, sharp limes.

Do you recall the crescent moon fading into the distance?
The boat’s leaf carried your youth far away
Your lips, red like blood, bloomed in youth
Many fools kept calling me “uncle,” while I called you “sister.”

At nineteen, I journeyed to the deep waters
You left for the South, your life unfolding alone
While I, still young, was clumsy
And the years weighed heavy on mother’s heart.

Pack a little of your childhood
A piece of the sky from your motherland
Keep it safe in the baggage of a young girl
Hold on to life and trust your heart’s direction.

Source: White Shirt Newspaper, April 1997

Restlessness
Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

Each night, I leave behind the city’s hum
Listening to the ancient temple’s bells
The wind rustles through the banyan tree
Uncovering the bright red dragonfly.

Each night, I return to the narrow lane
The grass stitches together the past
The sweet well – dark eyes – the grass’s touch
As the scent of lemongrass brushes my shoulder.

It’s impossible to return to that path
The barefoot days under the burning sun
It’s impossible to touch that path again
The water hyacinths – the malabar spinach – the grasses.

Indifferent, the moon hangs on the hammock
No love, no memory, no return
Now, amidst the urban streets
The streetlights glow with tired, red eyes.

Source: Tiền Phong Newspaper, Sunday Edition, 1997

Entering the Temple
Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

With hands joined, I bow to the past
The Buddha has yet to reach me through endless ages
The wind stands still, my mind lingers
This body is burdened by ignorance, lost in the realm of suffering.

With hands joined, I bow to the Zen gate
The wooden statues of Buddha remain silent, day by day
The vastness of the past and future
Is 84 million lifetimes enough to comprehend?

With hands joined, I bow to the four seasons
Endless thoughts echo in the present
Is this world real or just a dream?
I have no form, yet I still question the pain.

I do not seek miraculous divine signs
I only wish to return as myself in the next life.

Source: Giác Ngộ Newspaper, July 2014

October's Cause

Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

The cold has settled, October far from home
Lonely memories of a moonlit night, golden autumn scattered on straw
The old path still bears the marks of the buffalo’s tread
The youth’s years echo in the cooing of doves in the distance.

The mother’s eyes grow faint with longing from the village
The water jar falls, white with the scent of areca flowers
The poem I wrote for her ten years ago, now lost to rhyme
Never fully expressing my gratitude to her.

October, harvest time, a month filled with longing
Bringing tears to those far from home
Is the childhood yard still full of rice this season?
Or is it empty, filled only with the worry of life’s burdens?

I borrowed the sickle from the dimming moonlight at the street’s end
And harvested a corner of sorrow for myself...

Source: Hoa Học Trò Newspaper, October 1996

To Someone My Age

Source: Áo Trắng Newspaper, April 2016

Time

Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

I return to borrow a cup of time
Pouring out moonlight like wine, spilling over the clouds
Mother now is lost in a distant haze
Her path blurred, and life's roads bitter with age.

The morning glories still line the fence
Green branches sprout, tangled in the confusion of youth
The golden straw lies scattered, awaiting the harvest
While mother still sows seeds on the far side of the field.

I still toss stones into the pond
Verses rise and fall with the rhythm of my years
Naive, I borrow the restless waves
As the months and years drift like the floating water lilies.

Mother now lives in the past
Unable to return to the four seasons of green leaves
But I return with a heart full of longing, hanging on the branches
Burying the soul of the sun to become my childhood again.

Source: Giác Ngộ Newspaper, 2017

Mật ngôn

Thơ Chu Minh Khôi

Ngày xưa em với mật ngôn
Bao nhiêu dịu ngọt rót giòn mùa yêu
Dịu dàng tận cõi linh phiêu
Môi như đường mía nói điều xanh non.

Bây giờ em cũng mật ngôn
Xa xôi miệng lưỡi lượn tròn hình sin
Anh mà hiểu được chết liền
Gió bay đằng gió, quàng xiên đằng lời.

Anh giờ niệm cả một đời
Mật ngôn đem thả lên trời gọi tên
Nam mô Em! Một cõi miền
Bao nhiêu gẫy nát vo viên cũng tròn.

Ngộ ra đời những mật ngôn
Nắng như Pháp, núi xanh rờn cỏ cây
Ngộ ra chân lý là đây
Em là Pháp. Phật là mây cuối trời.

Nguồn: Báo Tiền phong chủ nhật, tháng 4/2019

The Festival at Hương Sơn

Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

The sun hangs still above the Đục River
Winds swirl, piercing the morning mist
Yến Stream curves its way to Giác Landing
Grass clings to the mountain, deepening its green.

In the first month of the year, a gentle quiet
The warmth of spring beckons with a hopeful gaze
The boat drifts, lost in the endless waves
Its movements merge with the eternal verses of poetry.

The oars sweep through the timeless waters
Seeking to wash away the illusions and errors
We drift slowly, the memory of a lotus
Carried by the flow towards the Quan Âm temple.

Source: Chùa Hương Journal, Spring 2019

Returning to the Old Classroom

Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

What makes me return to the old classroom
Where strangers now occupy the seats we once filled?
They laugh and argue, just like we used to
And hear a leaf fall quietly by the doorstep.

The classroom door still bears the same name
But it's no longer the 12B we knew
The blackboard still bears the marks of time
Carved with memories that still tug at my soul.

Under the old banyan tree, the morning sun rises
A young girl asks me to greet her as sister
Her braids sway casually, as if carefree
Unaware that I’ve already walked half the path of life.

The row of casuarina trees we planted still stands
Not a single one has bent with age
The wind whispers through their green leaves
Does it remember the ardor of our youth?

Laughter echoes beneath the sleepless trees
As we once did, in playful steps
Oh, how it stirs the poet's heart
Will I ever return to this old classroom, full of love and memories?

Source: Hoa học trò Magazine, November 1996

To a Historian

The streets are bathed in sunlight as the woman writes history
Words roll across her eyes, the winter deepens
The days are barren, the fallen kingdoms have vanished
Only the distant river turns to stone within her soul.

With slender hands, she gathers time to a halt
Her hair like clouds, pulling at the heart of an ancient myth
Do not ask about the shore of Chử Đồng Tử
For what of two wives? History does not follow a single line.

History, sometimes like a beautiful woman
She twists between sunlight and storms, so pure and serene
Her acts of mercy turn into something cruel
Her questions are like sharp blades cutting deep.

I gaze at her through the fading light
The season melts away, time hides its face
Her smile tugs at my soul, a knot of sorrow
Centuries crystallize into her figure.

I look at her with a smile that has withered
The winter street peels away like tangled grass
The silent echoes vibrate in the hidden darkness
History is the light she ignites in the distant horizon.

Source: Tiền Phong Newspaper, April 2019

With You

Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

If one day I bring you back to my homeland
I will choose a stormy day
So you can feel the bitterness in every grain of rice
The struggle of the flooded rice fields.

The cracked fields stretch like bird tracks
Bent under the scorching sun
Withered stalks standing alone
As the evening darkness coats the land.

When you visit the place where I once hid my love
Will you recognize the tired villagers?
What will you say to the village girls
Who, like you, are already carrying children in their arms?

Will you pity the water lilies drifting downstream?
Will you want to walk barefoot on the grass?
Will you dare to let your head face the sun and wind?
Will you brave the muddy paths, full of leeches?

I don’t want to deceive you into loving my homeland
With sweet words and golden praises
For one day you’ll discover, my land is cold
It holds grudges, and it might become a place of estrangement to you.

Source: Hoa học trò Magazine, Student Edition, June 1996

To April

Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

Will you return in April?
To drown in the fragrance of purple flowers in bloom
As the wind whispers sweet words of love
Stretching across the sky, memories turning into poetry.

The eyes of the past trap the evening in a moment of nostalgia
Gently casting a glance, turning the sunset purple
Now, without you, the old village stirs restlessly
Love's essence pulses through the veins of each leaf.

The village without you has become strange
The purple flowers cry out, calling for a lost lover
From some distant place, oh, the cheeks rosy and eyes soft
Winds from every direction carrying a whisper of longing.

Will you return in April?
To hold on to my youth, still wild and untamed
While I wait, like a flower, for the fruit to ripen
Beneath the old tree, reminiscing on April’s embrace!

Source: Nam Định Literary Magazine, May 1996

Early Morning at Bản Luốc

Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

From the spring of mist, it rises
Clouds beckon gently
The rooster announces the dawn
Your hair flowing on the hillside.

The green valley in the early breeze
The sun dances upon the earth
Children grasp the sunlight
As fluffy clouds shield them from the heat.

With love, the intricate fabrics
I am overwhelmed at the gates of heaven
The corn wine, untouched
As I stumble into your embrace.

The steps are full of rice
Climbing up the cliff of clouds
Your cheeks carry the scent of rice cakes
And though there’s no wine, I’m already drunk.

Source: Hà Giang Newspaper, Lunar New Year Edition 2019

On the Vu Lan Harvest Field

Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

A rainstorm bursts from a gentle life
The rice stands tall, like my mother sowing seeds
The fields are illusions, the thin moon anchored to reality
And incense sticks pierce the roots of the harvested straw.

The grass along the edges cracks underfoot, tinged purple with time
The plow digs through shadows of clouds, silence broken by the wind
A white rose adorns a sun-scorched branch
While the flames of migration flicker in the distance.

The spirit seeks the traces of my mother’s footsteps
Lost deep in the mist, hidden beneath the sky’s hair
The twilight of childhood stretches over a deserted field
Where the brown mud clings to forgotten paths.

In July, the sun and rain swing across the sky
As the sound of my mother's cough breaks through the gusts
The white rose rests upon a season left undone
The cycle of life secures the roots of wandering souls.

Source: Giác Ngộ Newspaper, July 2017

A Cup of Coffee in April
Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

Please don't offer me a cup of coffee in April
I'm afraid the rain will keep me awake
Even with a spoonful of sugar added to an old song
I'm not sure it will sound sweet to the ear.

I must refuse the coffee you offer
For fear of losing sleep in a faraway land
Once I had tasted the lips of a young girl
Who knew that it would echo for ten years.

April drips with each bitter drop
The café of time doesn’t sell yesterday's days
Memories stand still beside April’s dance
The rainflower says nothing, it only deepens the purple of the passing season.

(Published in the poetry collection: The Best Love Poems for You - Thanh Niên Publishing House, first edition in 2003, second edition in 2006)

March in Hương Sơn
Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

The red flowers hide behind fiery petals
The spring rain sways, intoxicated, throughout March
The mountains tremble with sun seeking past lives
The Yến River flows upstream toward the peak of Lăng Già.

Swallows pour spring into the blue cave
The Nam-mô chant colors the temple bells purple
The divine fragrance of Thiên Trù touches me
Like a mysterious spell cast by a beautiful maiden.

I lean on the gust of wind
Where colorless blossoms fall
The silent path leads to a peaceful mind
Let it fade away, to spark the beginning of life.

The mountain road is lined with a single white cloud
A resting head upon the drifting grass
The silent dew lingers, gathering the essence of all things
Hương Sơn stands still, echoing within my soul.

Source: Giác Ngộ Magazine, July 2014 issue

Mỵ Châu
Poem by Chu Minh Khôi

It was only a goose feather blown by the wind
Yet for thousands of years, this grief endures, Mỵ Châu!
The gullible heart became a deep moat
Believing in the sacred power of the divine arrow.

No one expected that the one she loved
Wove a web of deceit, turning Cổ Loa into ruin
Light as a feather drifting away
The fleeting human fate, stained with blood, lost forever.

The thousand-year-old stone sweats with sorrow
The pearl remains, speaking words of truth.

(Published in Giác Ngộ Magazine, 2006)