Top 20 Best Poems About Rice Fields and Homeland

In April, voices echo through the village
Birdsong calls, loud and soft, as it drifts
Firmly, the calls resound in the air
Sunlight shines, casting shadows on the ripe rice

In the distance, over the fields
A flock of storks appears, flying towards the riverbank
White hats sway, shielding from the sun
Mother and sister’s hands gently care for the crops

The cornfields are crowned in white flags
The mulberry fields are lush and green, weaving fibers
The rhythmic sound of the gong fills the air
The village celebrates, welcoming a joyful season

Since the victory of April (1975)
The people have worked with joy, building a new life
The Central Highlands, once distant and remote
Now rise, as the sky of dreams is reborn

The Party has given us everything we possess
The Party has given us the dream of a prosperous future.

Author: Pham Hong Quang

Years of hardship and dedication
Now, with gray hair, the soul of the homeland calls me back
I return along the dike road
Where birds sing joyfully in the summer noon
The sound of cicadas echoes from the phoenix tree
I walk on, reaching the bamboo grove at the village’s edge
The golden rice fields are ready for harvest
The villagers are busy, working with energy and passion.
Years pass, and everything changes
Yet, the soul of the homeland calls me every day
My elderly mother, her hair silver and skin weathered
Her hands hold the mortar, grinding betel nuts
Through all the sun and rain, enduring the toil
Now, her hair is pure white, like the gentle stream
In Kien Giang, the love and duty are deep
The water is clear and cool, reflecting my image
The village dock where I once sat
The shade of the banyan tree spreads, its leaves green and fresh
Through the years of war
The soul of the homeland remains, waiting for my return.

Author: Doan Cong Chuoc

Returning to my homeland, the sky is clear and bright
Standing by the river, watching the pristine waters flow
The homeland remains as beautiful as before
The rice fields and familiar steps welcome me back.

The morning light weaves through the clouds
Homeland is carved in shades of pink
How I adore the rice heavy with grains
And the sound of the kite’s song echoing in the evening breeze.

As evening falls, smoke rises from the houses
The crescent moon hangs above the banyan tree at the village entrance
Suddenly, I hear a gentle lullaby
From a distant home, softly whispering ‘à ơi.’

I love my homeland, and in my poems
I cherish the memories of my childhood days...

Author: Xuan Thuy

In my homeland, the rice plants are blossoming and full
Under the sun and the moon, my mother works in the fields
When she returns, she brings fresh crab
A bowl of water spinach soup, and a dish of salted crab
The aroma of fried crabs fills the air
A bowl of rice, warm and fragrant, like the essence of home
The village, with its muddy feet and hands
The smell of straw at the village entrance greets me warmly
There’s a small market by the communal house
As a child, I waited eagerly for my mother to return from the market
With a few coins, she bought me steamed rice cakes with dipping sauce
Eating them, I cherished the coolness of my childhood
Mother bought me a new outfit
I proudly showed it off to the other village children
The kites soared high over the fields
I went to school with my friends in the village
Even when I left for work, I couldn’t forget
The sweet aroma of rice still lingered in the air
When I hold a bowl of fragrant rice in my hands
I think back to the days of my youth in the village
In my homeland, the rice fields are full of golden grains
The harvest season has come, and the land is rich with crops
As I left, my heart ached with longing
For the homeland and the childhood that shaped me
The land that nourished me and made me who I am
The soul of Vietnam’s soil stays with me forever.

Author: Anh Quan

My house stands beside the green bamboo hedges
The fields stretch wide, welcoming the return of the harvest
A flock of white storks soar and flutter in the breeze
My home is in the heart of the rice fields
The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of fresh rice
My childhood was spent walking to school
Across vast golden fields
Smoke lingers in the cool afternoon mist
Grass grows along the riverbanks
My friends and I spent our days playing
Flying kites, playing tug-of-war, sweat soaking our clothes
Sweet potatoes buried in the ground
Yucca shared among us with its fragrant taste
My homeland endures through sunshine and rain
Across the fields
The sound of the owl's hoot marks the changing season
Like the gentle stream of childhood memories
The river has always sung softly as we walked to school
The river has nourished my life
As I grew up, the river's affection remained, unchanged
Just like the childhood that stayed behind
The rooster’s crow by the river
Our voices echoing as we call for the boat
We meet, like a flock of young birds going to school
My house is next to yours
There’s a fragrant pomelo tree in your yard
The scent of your hair fills the air
It stirs something deep within me
Unspoken words, like the unexpressed love we share
The pomelo flowers still bloom, their fragrance leading me to dreams
Childhood, you will always be in my heart
For I can still pluck the flowers of those days
Childhood lives on, forever.

Author: Anh Quan

He returns to visit my hometown
A land bathed in golden sunshine
The village is bustling with activity
During the harvest season

Looking over the fields of ripe rice
They form a golden carpet beneath the sky
Winter arrives gently
The cool wind sways through the air

He returns to visit my hometown
A place filled with love and warmth
The sea crashes against the white sand
The river winds around the village

The familiar village road
The ancient temple stands firm
The well, with its clear water
The ancient banyan tree, standing tall for a century

As autumn fades into winter
Raindrops fall gently
My hometown’s love stays with me
Leaving an everlasting impression on my heart.

Author: De Tran Van

In the evening, I gaze at the countryside fields
The vast land is filled with herons flying in all directions
A golden carpet of ripened rice blankets the earth
Bringing back memories of the chapters of life

As a child, I gathered fallen rice stalks
Carefully collecting the fruits of our parents' labor
A bowl of soup, a spoon of fish sauce, a pickled eggplant
And the sweat that nurtured my growth

I left as an equal among my peers
And returned to admire the harvest scene
Though the days of fierce competition are gone
The cooperative warehouse now stands empty, no longer bustling

The countryside still resonates with life
As people hurry, drying their rice in the golden sun
Though I’ve traveled far and wide
I’ll never forget the grains of rice, and the warmth of my people

The sweet aroma of freshly harvested rice fills the air
Grateful for the hardworking hands that farmed the land
The beauty of the countryside still captures my heart
And I long to remember the afternoons we spent together.

Author: Ho Nhu

The rice bows its head, signaling a bountiful harvest
The rustling breeze sings across the fields
The land turns golden, vibrant eyes eagerly awaiting
As the season begins beneath the warm sky

Mother’s hands grow busier with the season’s demands
Carrying heavy loads of rice, piled high on her shoulder
Her bare feet move swiftly across the land
The small fields still bear the marks of the past

The field above is dotted with resting herons
While below, the starlings play and dance in the sun
The ditches fill with water, sweetening the soil
Guiding the river to water another season of golden grains

The ox’s back carries the weight of childhood memories
As I watch my parents under the midday sun
The rice continues to rustle, whispering of the past
While the fields are alive... and the hat provides shade!

Poem: Tuan Nguyen Dinh

In October, the fields turn golden with ripened rice
The terraced lands spread out like a golden carpet
The sound of machines fills the village
The green bamboo groves echo with children’s laughter

In the late October afternoon, the autumn sun gently fades
The white herons glide, serenaded by a mother’s lullaby
There’s a kind-hearted girl, Tấm, from childhood
Collecting crabs and fish to exchange for a meal...

The land and the people remain faithfully bound
Each grain of rice follows the footsteps of soldiers
The front calls for the home front to join in the fight
Hoàng Cầm's kitchen served meals soaked in blood and sacrifice

The sound of gunfire on the battlefield is long gone
Now, only stories of cassava-filled meals remain in the books
After all the hardships, the harvest has come
Eating a bowl of rice stirs deep emotions

The evening smoke reminds me of distant memories
The fragrance of hay blends with the fresh rice aroma
Stewed fish and salted vegetables await
Waiting for you to come home to enjoy a meal from the countryside...

Poem: Hưng Xuân

After all this time, I return once more

The village fields bear the patience of my father’s work

The scent of rice fills the air, reaching far and wide

Infused with the sweat of my mother through the years

The little road still stands with innocent memories

The green bamboo hides the shadows of the storks

In the distance, herds of cattle roam

Stepping slowly, content with full bellies

Oh, homeland, how I yearn and wait

Old memories come flooding back

The days of cutting grass by the dike

Swimming in the river with friends each evening

The rice, heavy with grain, tells of the labor

Of my parents’ sleepless nights

Farming tirelessly with passion

Staying up late, waking early, filled with joy

The harvest season brings excitement in my heart

The reward is finally close

Fragrant rice, plump and pure

Filled with the love and care of my mother’s homeland!

Poem: Đặng Minh Mai

As evening falls, I stand watching the rice fields bloom
Memories flood from my youth, when I was just ten
Only looking at life through the bright red of sunset
Not knowing yet the sacrifices of those who loved me

Father, bearing the weight of the day under the burning sun
Mother, bent over, hands in the well drawing water
Each day, tirelessly, she fills our bowls of rice
Worrying over food and warmth, finding joy in our smiles

The sun sets, the wind whispers softly
As the evening shadows stretch, mother returns
The fading light covers the dike as she walks home
Her tired figure tells of a long, weary day

Simple meals of salty rice and vegetable soup
At night, we ask her questions, and she smiles
Even when tired, father responds with cheer
Strumming his guitar, the sound soft and soothing

Then mother passed, and father followed soon after
The world left with the faint scent of memories
In moments of reflection, I feel lost and confused
Like a child, naive, looking back on those days

Poem: Huỳnh Ba

I still wait for you in the quiet village
Two seasons of rain and sunshine have passed
I still wait for you, far away
Hoping to weave our love into something everlasting

Among the garden flowers, butterflies flutter
Across the fields where the rice is beginning to bloom
A small boat drifts gently down the river
Under the spring sunshine, clouds float in the sky

Our fate is written, and I borrow love
Borrowing it forever, not wishing to return it
With the scent of grapefruit and betel leaves at night
Lulling me to sleep, faithful until old age

I am still waiting for my soulmate
Though thousands of miles apart
To build dreams together, in our homeland
Where love awaits, along a single path

Together, we will share a life full of joy
One love, one heart, forever true
I will wait, for destiny, for a hundred years
Across the distance, across the vast seas

Love Poem: Hàn Đông Tử
31/1/23

Has anyone visited Binh Dinh just once?
To listen to the waves whispering and the winds singing
And to see the endless green sand dunes
The golden beaches reflecting the light of the hometown sun

Who has been to Quy Nhon city
The place where HÀN MẠC TỬ once wrote his poems
The abandoned house now covered with moss
The rocks stand, sad, marking the old paths of flowers

The old bamboo groves bowing under the rain
The rice fields still filled with the scent of flowers
My homeland, where hardworking people live
Binh Dinh, a place renowned for its literature and valor

Who has wandered with the children
Leading each other up the hill where purple flowers bloom
The boats bobbing on the ocean's surface
The waves crashing, enhancing the beauty of the village

Author: Nguyễn Phương

The river is wide, winding and curving
Your beauty is stunning, your lashes long as you wait
Your gaze pierces far beyond sight
And the stream of life flows on without end.

The sun today shines with the freshness of spring
The banks are covered in lush green corn and sugarcane
A small boat departs from the old dock
Gliding smoothly across the calm, gentle river.

The vast fields stretch across every region
With each season, they ripen with the sweet scent of rice
The folk songs carry the stories of our hearts
Welcoming spring with hope for the future.

Where does the river’s source lie, to remain so ever-green?
It kisses the banks in the soft morning breeze
When did love begin, I wonder?
To brighten the canvas of our lives.

Nguyễn Nhi

Do you still remember those days, my love?

We sneaked into the fields to steal ripe rice

And took it home, quietly roasting and grinding it into rice crackers

The two of us would hide away in the garden

With the sweet scent of rice crackers, we sat with our shoulders touching
Flocks of sparrows chirping on the betel nut trees
How could we forget those mischievous games
Playing marbles and spinning tops, having so much fun?

Years have passed, yet the longing remains strong
Those innocent childhood days
Barefoot, sun-kissed, with golden hair
And as we grew, you quietly slipped away.

You left behind the springtime girl
While I, lost in my thoughts, wandered away
The river of our homeland remains, ever-changing
With the evening sun casting shadows, I still long for you.

This April, will you come back to visit?
To see the fields where we once played joyfully
Harvesting rice just like when we were children
Revisiting those days of tending cattle and herding buffalo.

Author: Nguyễn Đình Huân

In the evening, standing on the embankment
The fragrance of freshly harvested rice wafts to me
The earth and sky offer their bounty
Mother’s home-cooked rice, a taste never to be forgotten

The vast fields stretch endlessly
The storks fly gracefully, untroubled by the harvest season
The hardworking souls rise early and toil under the sun and rain
Their lives are filled with the rhythms of nature’s call

It’s been decades since I left home
The golden rice grains still call me to return
Though the roads are long, the memory remains
My brown clothes from those days have never faded

The sweat that drenches one’s back
Is the price paid for each precious grain of rice
The melody of life, near and far
Preserves the deep gratitude of those who sowed the golden grains.

Author: Ho Nhu

The evening in my homeland, where the scent of rice fills the air
The sunset bathes the river in golden light
Watching the little ones, so dear and precious
Innocently flying kites in their carefree childhood

The herds of cows wander leisurely
Along the green bamboo edges, grazing happily
The environment around us is pure and calm
The village evening is a peaceful painting.

Author: Chử Văn Hòa

Take me back to the memories of childhood
To the river, with the little boat drifting
To the reed birds, and the winds on the dike
To the sandbars, where the red water meets the fertile soil!

Take me back to the lush rice fields
To the footprints and the fragrant flowers in the grass
To the worn-out shirt, the tired, sunburned body
To the lost hat, and the misty eyes of May!

Take me back to the hibiscus hedge around the yard
Where flowers still bloom, and the day starts with rain and sun
By the cradle, the lullaby echoes deeply
And through the seasons, the swallows swoop and glide!

My homeland, oh my homeland! It still stirs in my dreams
Longing for fermented fish paste, and the tender spinach, the pumpkin leaves
Do the sweet potatoes and cassava still carry the scent of smoke?
Or has it faded since that day you crossed the river?

Take me back to the vast sea, to the storms
To June, when my mother carried two harvests
To the frosty mornings, when my father worked through all four seasons
To the land of flowers and memories, where everything was once alive!

Author: Vũ Kết Đoàn

I return to your homeland!
Where the green bamboo fences stand
Through all four seasons, they bend in the wind
The bamboo sways and whispers
Gently brushing the green of my hair

I return to your land!
Where the rice fields stretch far and wide
The golden grains swaying with the breeze
Creating a tapestry of green beneath the sky

I return to your hometown!
Where the Kiến Giang river flows clear
Never disturbed by waves
The water like a mirror so still
Reflecting both your image and mine

I return to your homeland!
Where the thatched houses are no more
Replaced with modern tiled roofs
Tall buildings reaching for the sky
I am proud of your homeland

Author: Đoàn Công Chước

My village's rice fields, so lush and green.
Early morning dew soaks everything.
By the evening, the cool breeze blows as I walk around the fields.
The fragrance of young rice fills the air, spreading across the land.

As the rice ripens into golden grains.
The fields come alive with activity, as if spring has returned.
This year's harvest is bountiful and valuable.
Everyone in the village rejoices in happiness.

Author: Phạm Thi