Top 27 Poems About Mother’s Village

THE RIVER OF MY VILLAGE
Poet: Nghi Lâm

My village has a river filled with memories
The water hyacinths drift with the current
Rows of water coconut trees calling
Children swim and gather fruits daily

A sturdy monkey bridge stretches across
Every evening, the market nearby
Humble thatched houses, walls of soil
The sound of mother’s lullaby soothing the children

The old landing dock still remains unchanged
The little three-pronged boat, so dear
With my father, casting nets through the night
Fish and shrimps sparkle in the boat

This river, under the shining moon
Illuminates the golden rice fields
Lost in thoughts, gazing far away
Seeing your figure on the small embankment

Homeland, forever cherished
Every patch of garden, every patch of land
Even though far away, memories abound
The old boat, the river of my village!

(Saigon, midday, 11/8/2018. Longing for the small river of my hometown.)

BY THE RIVERSIDE OF MY HOMETOWN

Author: Đình Khải

I return once again to the riverside of my hometown
Silently watching the Red River flowing
Where have gone those scorching summer afternoons
Where the boats endlessly row across.

Still, I see here the figure of my mother
Hastily descending to the riverside to wash clothes
Mother worked tirelessly throughout her life
To raise and nurture her children to grow.

Time flies by so quickly
The Red River, however, still waves every day
But why don’t I see the small figure
Of my mother bending by the riverside?

Oh, how I wish to return to those summer days
To help my mother carry clothes to the riverside
Just as in those innocent childhood days
To immerse myself in the endless love of a mother.

ĐÌNH KHẢI

LONGING FOR MEMORIES

Author: Nghiêm Mẫn

My village lies by the river
The banks shimmer with the reflection of red silt
Cornfields swaying in the breeze
The green of mulberry trees stretching like the sea.

The villagers along the riverside are kind
The countless fishermen create distant docks
At the edge of dusk, the crowing of roosters
The melody of the song ‘ho khoan’ softly greets dawn.

Brown sails drifting, whose boat is this?
White sails catching the wind, fishermen heading to and fro
The riverside of my childhood
After all these years away, I never cease to yearn.

Memories of kites soaring by the embankment
Faint wisps of smoke rising from the peaceful village

Today, amidst the bustling city
A flood of longing overwhelms... longing for my hometown.

Author: Nghiêm Mẫn

THE CALL OF HOMELAND

Poet: Nguyễn Nguyệt Anh

Come back, my dear...!
You have wandered endlessly
Why not come back, stop by to see me
The path without you, covered in moss
The night falls, the sky seems so silent.

The day you left...!
The rain streamed down your cheek
The gloomy boat crosses a cold river
The tune of ‘nghê thường’ is sung during storms
To bid farewell, mother’s face is sorrowful.

You left...!
I carry my sorrow under the sun
Knitting the warmth of affection to soothe my lips
Holding on to love, passing it on to others
Building happiness, hoping for peace in life.

Can you hear it...!
The affection in the music
The riverside of my homeland
Overflows with longing for the one who left
Even if you have passed your youthful days
The river, for thousands of years, murmurs in anticipation.

Come back, my dear...!
Our homeland is changing
Shifting towards future glory
Ancient capitals rising
Palaces and temples emerge
The history stretches far.

Come back, my dear...!
Don’t hesitate any longer
The Motherland, kind and waiting
For travelers who leave home
The road is wide, inviting you back
Embrace the warmth of love, of our beloved homeland.

MC: 11/8/2018

HOMETOWN

Poet: Thu Hiền

Today, I return to visit my grandma’s hometown
The old river still anchors at the same dock
The autumn breeze dances among the bending bamboo
Waves ripple, echoing the lullaby sounds.

I return to relive a dream
The Red River with its rising and falling shores
The sweet memories swirling in every breath
My grandma’s hair now turns silver.

I return to hold onto my childhood
The red mud flats, golden fields of mustard
The scent of freshly blooming rice
The kite's tune, catching the wind and calling to the moon.

Grandma says, homeland is a peaceful place
Come back when you feel tired
The river still flows with enduring love
I softly reply... Yes, I know... Grandma.

Hạ Long, 11.8.2018

SÔNG LAM, MY HOMETOWN
Poet: Hồ Viết Bình

The Lam River flows in a vivid green
The Quyết Mountains echo with the sound of pines
A boat glides gently with each stroke of the oar
"Ví đò đưa" so clear, sweet and tender.

The ví dặm tunes carry a purple hue
Twilight’s glow or the color of a kiss
My hometown’s river shifts between low and high
Carrying fertile silt to fields of mustard.

Even though I’ve gone far away
I still vividly recall my mother by the riverside
The folk songs so deeply heartfelt
Lingering in each of my dreams.

"Those who have husbands, tell them not to fear
Those with wives, tell them not to be jealous
Come here and sing together until we are familiar
At dawn, each goes back to their own home
It’s not easy for two hearts to share one lantern"

CHERISHED CHILDHOOD
Poet: Hoàng Minh Tuấn

My hometown, a low-lying region,
Cracked by scorching sun, flooded by rain.
Thatched roofs, with hardships and pain,
Mother, with tireless effort, raised the children!

The poverty-stricken countryside relies on grains,
Many children, in every home, it remains.
Through rain and shine, mother’s strength does not wane,
Always persevering, through every challenge!

Father loves mother, even in hardship,
But his path led him to war.
Alone, mother carried the burden, so much more,
Yet not a word of complaint ever let slip!

The rice fields, where mother’s sweat drenched,
The village treeline, forever familiar.
By the dyke, the kite’s soaring flight,
Songs of nature, returning the buffalo at sunset.

During storms, the rain pours endlessly,
Everyone joins hands to guide the water to the river.
Then summer, the fierce heat fills the air,
We unite to clear the river, fight the drought!

The river, where I once bathed countless times,
Games with friends on scorching afternoons.
Now, each return to my hometown,
Memories flood back, filled with longing!

Poverty-stricken yet rich in love,
Through hardships, mother toiled every day.
Even now, revisiting the homeland,
Memories of kites, buffaloes, golden fields return...

My childhood, dear mother, full of affection!

Hà Nội, 12/8/2018

THE RIVER OF MY MOTHER'S HOMETOWN

Author: Phạm Hồng Giang

Returning to my mother's hometown on a rainy afternoon
The river there, murky with red silt
The kite's wing dances gently in the breeze
In the distance, the sound of temple bells echoes.

Half a lifetime burdened with buying and selling
Hardships and trials testing fate
Now here, letting go of every concern
Washing the heart, leaving behind sorrow.

The river of my hometown winds gracefully
The ferry carries schoolchildren with white uniforms
The mustard fields by the dike shimmer in golden sunlight
The house by the reeds, once empty, now long gone.

In the evening sun, the loquat tree bears sparse fruit
By August, someone climbs to pick it
A feast prepared with incense burning
Mid-Autumn Festival with lanterns aglow.

Returning again, diving into the river
Childhood memories, stacking up...
So many moments!

12/08/2018 Hồng Giang

VICTORY AT BỜ SỦNG!

Author: Nguyễn Bình Thiêm

(Bờ Cống Sủng village of Do Nghĩa, Sơn Vi, Lâm Thao, Phú Thọ)

Nine years of resistance, long and strong
The victory at Bờ Sủng deeply etched in memory
Remember the day French forces attacked
They came to the resistance village hoping to destroy us.

A low-ranking French officer
Along with three collaborators scoured the area
Local militia of Việt Hùng (**)
Set a mine, blowing up the officer and his men.

Defeated, they retaliated by burning homes
They shot and killed an elderly man
Capturing a woman, then forced her
To lead the stolen cattle for the use of officials (***)

This was a heinous crime that cannot be forgiven
The village erected a memorial stone
To remind future generations
Of the victory that should never be forgotten!

(*) Do Nghĩa is a resistance village controlled by Việt Minh partisans, located in Sơn Vi and Thanh Đình. In 1953, a French officer with three collaborators came to the Bờ Sủng area in an attempt to enter Nghìa village. Uncle Sứng (now called Grandpa) was the one who triggered the mine.
(**) Việt Hùng was a region at that time in Lâm Thao, including Sơn Vi and parts of Thanh Đình and Tứ Xã today.
(***) Cai and quan are terms for local leaders, French officials, and their Vietnamese collaborators.

BP-Vàng 01-07-2018

MEMORIES OF THE VÂN RIVER

Author: Tony Bùi

Return to the Vân River* to relive old memories
Autumn nights, the wind whispers through the window
Raindrops fall gently, slowly, adding to the melancholy
Making my heart ache, wetting the lines of poetry.

Ninh Bình, oh! The longing leaves me in a daze
The breeze touches my cold shoulder
Embracing you, your warmth making me sway
My heart tilts, spinning in delight.

I give you all my heart
For a complete happiness in silent moments
The motherland's gentle song echoes
As purple lilac blossoms fill my dream.

Returning to you, like leaves now turning green
My love for you, I'll cherish it forever
Together we walk this path of love
So time reverses all memories!

Warszawa
12/08/2018

* The Vân River is a poetic river flowing through Ninh Bình city

THE OLD RIVERBANK
Poem by: Trần Diệu Hương

The sadness dwells deep within my heart
I hold back happiness, suppressed deep inside
The old riverbank blooms with strange flowers
Is it time for you to return to the river?

Do you hear the waves during the pink evening?
Am I still on the shore you used to tread?
Always longing for the old riverbank
The sweet scent of love remains in my heart.

On my return to the small riverbank
The fragrance of blossoms and purple viburnum
Still lingering with the sweet kiss of long ago
Now, the lilac blooms wait in purple hues.

HN: 12 - 8 - 2018

WILL YOU RETURN TO THAT PLACE WITH ME?
Author: Nguyễn Lan Hương

Will you return to that place with me?
Will there be the full moon’s clear light on nights?
Will there be a river murmuring with gentle waves?
Will there be green trees in the summer heat?

Will you come to visit a riverside village
And dip your hands into the shimmering water?
Listen to songs that make the soul feel restless
The old melodies cradle those past dreams.

Will you come back, even if only in dreams
To mourn over a moon’s reflection in the water?
The days of youth have passed, how can we hold
A full, round sixteen-moon in its fullness?

08/06/2015

THE ROAD TO MOTHER’S VILLAGE
Author: Đoàn Văn Cừ

There used to be a place where each spring
The willow branches would sway with clouds
It was where we returned to claim our roots
In the region beyond where our families hailed.

I remember walking past rows of trees
Along the white rivers beside the dike.
The green islets, the crimson fields stretching
As farmers hoe and sow, activity everywhere.

Crammed baskets on the hips, hats on heads,
Golden jewelry, red blouses, brown silk
Grandmother looked no different than her youth
Bright eyes, rosy lips, cheeks glowing.

In the evening’s cool air, the distant fields
A group returning, sweet potatoes loaded.
The blue sky, white egrets flying in formation
Market villagers drying palm leaf sheets.

Her brown robe blends into the fields
The evening wind stirring dust behind her.
The figure of my grandmother or the village maiden
Bows her hat, red cheeks shining.

Upon reaching the village path, we meet those we know
Everyone praises grandmother for her goodness.
Even though she must follow her husband’s fate
The road to mother’s village she will never forget.

1942

RETURN TO MOTHER
Author: Đặng Minh Mai

Returning to mother, I feel warmth
After many days of life's struggles
Today, I come back to her
My heart heavy, tears choking my words.

I see mother strong and alert
My heart rejoices most, dear mother!
With arms wide open, so vast
Mother hugs me, saying she misses me so.

I have grown, but returning to mother
I feel young again
I long for the lullabies from her cradle
Drowning in her loving gaze.

Thank you, life, for having a mother
To shield me, whether young or old
Mother’s love and care endure
Her affection for me and her grandchildren, passing through countless days.

Even if life is rich and opulent
It cannot match the warmth of a mother
I return to mother, singing songs
All hardships drift away.

RETURNING HOME
Author: Toàn Tâm Hòa

Returning home, I hear the evening hum
The scent of rice wafts through the air, unfamiliar yet intoxicating!
The amber glow mixes with the scent of harvested hay
My homeland, oh it’s so dear to me.

Returning home, I seek the lullaby
That was lost in time’s vast embrace
I search for Mother amidst the fading sunset
In my dreams, I feel the weight of sorrow.

Returning home, I visit the garden’s edge
Where wild grass grows lush and thick
The kitchen door hidden in shadows
Old ashes lie, longing to be rekindled.

Returning home, I yearn for a meal
Where Mother’s hands once stirred warmth
Returning home, I hear strange footsteps
That wander aimlessly through endless shadows.

Returning home, to the small, welcoming house
But today, it feels so cold and distant
There’s something in my eyes, burning
That stings like searing pain.

Returning home, in loneliness and wandering.

I STILL WANT
Author: Sen Nguyễn

I still want to be in Mother’s embrace
To feel small like I once was
To be comforted, to play, to laugh
Mother, you gently kiss my disheveled hair.

I still love the scent of Mother
A scent that blends with sun-tanned skin
Every word you speak is sweet
Mother, you taught me with so much affection.

Rain or shine, it is Mother who carries
The burden alone, facing loneliness
Through hardships, you remain strong
For the sake of our future, you silently endure.

Mother’s small frame bears the weight of struggle
Braving the change in weather
Your silent footsteps continue
For the sake of the children’s future to grow.

I still want to be a child again
To hear Mother’s joyous laughter
I love you the most, Mother dear
You are everything in my life.

I RETURN TO VISIT MOTHER
Author: Hồ Tịnh Văn

I return home one bright morning
The long path I once wandered
The gentle hand of mother lifted me
Still here, I see your kind silhouette, mother dear.

I return, seeking again the dream of yore
Our home encircled by golden rice fields
By the rural path, mustard blossoms unfold
Sweet fragrance reminds me of distant days.

I return, eyes longing for a glimpse
Of my father’s struggle through many seasons
In the vast fields, mother labored from dawn
The evening smoke carries the warmth of love.

I return to the place of my homeland
Empty inside, the feeling weighs heavy
Our old home, familiar but feels strange
The warmth I once knew, now seems so far away.

I enter the house, wandering the garden
The bountiful grapefruit hangs low this season
The ancient tamarind recalls bygone times
The sour taste of crab soup, still in memory.

I have returned, but do my parents know?
Childhood still echoes in my schoolwork
The corner of the house where I once studied
Striving far from home to escape poverty.

The past comes with me, like it never left
Reuniting me with the dreams of youth
I miss you, mother, those days I longed
To return and relive midday dreams.

I return home on a rainy day
Mother, oh, how I miss you!

ONE VISIT TO MOTHER
Author: Quốc Phương

It's been a long time... I had the chance to visit the village
So many changes... when I finally saw mother
From the entrance, I rushed in to sit gently
Beside my dear mother, barely holding back tears.

Mother dear... the memories I once held
Now beside you, I’m happy to see you well
But there’s one worry... of the children once small
Even in old age, you remain silent and lonely.

I followed my spouse, settled in distant lands
My filial duty... long since left unpaid
I miss you so much... now I’ve returned to see you
By your side, I feel the warmth of your love.

Throughout the years... I’ve been away for so long
I know you’ve often gazed at the door
The youngest child, longing for mother’s milk
Fills their heart with just a half bowl of rice porridge.

Now, seeing you, your age has grown
Your sight weaker, your eyes slightly dimmed
Hearing you speak, I feel a sense of joy
You, my mother, still do not feel pain.

My dear mother... I will always pray
That you stay healthy and live to a ripe old age
So that I, your child, can humbly
Serve you each day, pouring tea to honor you.

Sitting by your side, my heart overflows
The feeling... you are like the bright moon above
I only wish... as time goes by
Never again to be far from you, my beloved mother.

EVENING IN THE COUNTRYSIDE
Author: Chử Văn Hòa

Evening in the countryside, the smell of fresh rice fills the air

The sunset spreads its golden light across the river’s edge

Looking at my beloved younger siblings

Playfully letting go of the kites of childhood dreams

Groups of grass sway leisurely

Alongside the bamboo, in a carefree manner

Nature’s environment is pure

Evening in the countryside is a peaceful painting.

HOMELAND
Author: Sinh Hoàng

Homeland with two seasons of rain and sun

There is a small river lined with coconut trees

In this poor land, walls made of earth and a thatched roof

A three-palm boat inside, outside the dock

Sweet potatoes and cassavas are abundant and filling

Rice grains, sticky and fragrant, nourishing those around

Healthy trees bearing sweet fruits

Girls with pink cheeks and bright lips

Those who leave should remember to return

Harvest season full of love, country’s feelings overflowing

Homeland, two sweet-sounding words

Homeland, lovingly etched in our hearts.

HOMELAND LONGING
Author: Hoàng Thanh Tâm

Returning to find the home in the countryside

Searching for my mother amidst sun and rain

Looking for sunshine through the coconut trees

Seeking the fresh fragrance of new rice blowing

Searching for the buffalo and the boat

My mother’s ba-ba shirt singing by the river

The conical hat leaning in the sun and ebb

The countryside’s hardship with mud crabs and clams

Water lilies, violet in the rainy season

Drifting gently in the river, paddled by boats

Smoke rising from the poor house kitchen

The chicken clucking, the cat twitching its tail

Pigs and chickens going back and forth

Mud-stained hands and feet, yet smiling in simplicity

The white heron calling in the distance

Echoing the melodious folk tunes, nature’s choir

Memories deeply woven in tradition

With the bones of my father and the blood of my mother, kind and gentle

No matter how far I roam

Homeland remains etched deeply in my heart, never fading.

HOMELAND LOVE
Author: Hoa Lục Bình

At twilight, the sun tilts over the dyke

Young herdsmen leisurely walk home with their buffalo

A river flows in a deep green hue

A flock of white cranes returns from somewhere

Peaceful is the countryside at dusk

The smoke from the rice fields spreads quietly at night

In the fields, the green rice still stands

The serene countryside is so refreshing

Watching the young chickens calling out

People finish their work and call each other home

Now the night has fallen

A gentle fragrance of braided hair in the wind

The dawn breaks with a misty morning

The buffalo grazes leisurely in the garden

The white cranes get lost in poetic flights

Leaving me enchanted in the field

The ferry rests by the riverside

It seems it’s waiting for someone

People are lively, laughing and chatting

The vast green fields carry the aroma of young rice

Homeland love, unwavering and steadfast

Even in the city, do you still remember?

The old ferry is waiting

Every day, I wait and long for you to return.

MEMORY OF MOTHER CENTRAL VIETNAM
Author: Phan Quang Phóng

Mother!
More than thirty years ago, you gave me birth
More than thirty years, I became a son of the land of Central Vietnam’s scorching sun
For twenty-five years, I have witnessed countless disasters, not counting them anymore
Only remember the floods and storms that come every year...

For twenty-five years, I have seen many hard lives
Their families are pitiful, with nothing but empty hands
Each flood leaves my heart aching, and my soul tormented
Pained by the land of Mother, by my fellow beings...

The people of Central Vietnam have always been diligent, tireless
With strong willpower to overcome poverty
But today’s sweat might become meaningless tomorrow...

I feel sorrow for the fathers burdened with heavy shoulders
See the rough hands of many mothers
With shared dreams that remain unfulfilled
Sympathizing with those who must leave their land, go elsewhere.

I cannot remain indifferent to such suffering
My heart aches thinking of those who lost their lives in the deep sea, the white sand...
I lie awake through long nights
As my homeland struggles with the fierce storms.

The land where I was born, Central Vietnam
Has endured countless times when “Mother Nature” unleashed her wrath
The deep eyes of the poor have etched marks of weariness and hardship
Only longing for a prayer to reach the sky.

I look at the small, fragile lives
Blaming myself for feeling powerless
Here, just like me, countless others lie awake at night
Waiting for peace...from Mother...Mother!

NOSTALGIA OF FARAWAY LAND
Author: Phan Quang Phóng

Mother!!!
I was born in the midst of seasons, between yams and cassava
Grew up with the taste of wild spinach, tender lotus
Endured the scorching summers
And faced the floods sweeping through Central Vietnam.

I do not forget the hardships of my childhood

Waking up early to catch crabs, in the afternoon fishing on the fields
I still remember when the village slept
I, alone, collected small shrimps by the riverside.

And I remember those March days with my mother
Carrying baskets to borrow rice from every village
I still recall every time my stomach was empty
I ran back to grab a bite of sweet potato.

I do not forget the old bed made of bricks
The worn mat with holes
The thin blanket barely enough to cover four people
Yet, our family found joy in togetherness.

I remember so well every evening when father came home late
My parents waited in front of the house
The sight of something on that clunky bicycle
Meant food for dinner... from afar.

During school years, I wore only two outfits
On rainy days, the fire couldn’t dry them
At school, I always huddled in a corner
Too shy to face classmates and teachers.

Now grown, like many from Nghệ An
I have gone far to seek my fortune
But still dream of returning to that time
To share a meal with my mother, with pickles and dried vegetables.

Life takes many away from their parents
To chase after livelihood and money
But suddenly, when turning back
I yearn for the warmth... of peace long past.

WILL YOU RETURN TO MOTHER’S LAND WITH ME?

Author: Tú Uyên

Will you come back to mother’s land with me?
The Châu Giang river curves gently around the village
The bent figure of mother, the smoky aroma
The squinting eyes—there are our children coming home...

Come with me to mother’s land
Listen to the rustling of golden rice ears filled with the scent of new paddy
Deep in our hearts, love softly calls
We sit by each other, hearing the rhythm of the fields.

Come back with me, the ripe bananas await, seeking company at night
The small house filled with children’s laughter
Mother will embrace you, the night gently stirring
Eyes moist, wishing that they were our own.

Come with me to mother’s land, no matter how far...

Tú Uyên

RURAL AFTERNOON
Author: Nguyễn Minh Tiến

By the bamboo grove, the Cuốc calls the summer
The lotus pond blooms red
The sun spreads across the village path
The flame flowers spin and fall
Your footprints tangled in rice
At the head of the village
Suddenly the smell of new rice drifts by
I—alone—stand bewildered in the rural afternoon.

-------- RETURN --------

Author: Hoàng Lan

I once again search through the memories of my childhood
Beside the last wall of the sky, where smoke gently sways
Returning to those cherished moments
That I dropped amid the tide of life

I search for the place filled with words
Singing sweet lullabies beside the hammock
A steadfast heart amidst life’s storms
I seek to fill the void within me

I return once more to that distant place
To the cradle of my early days
The familiar steps on the road sway gently
Soft lips whispering tender love

I flee from fleeting dust
Seeking refuge in a tranquil silence
I return to a love profound
The humble thatched roof, in gentle sunshine

Hoàng Lan