Top 7 Best Essays where the Cricket in 'The First Lesson of Life' from the 'Cánh Diều' book recounts the story

I took Dế Choắt to bury him in a thick patch of grass, forming a large mound and placing a white flower wreath on top.

It was dusk, and the faint moonlight illuminated the grass, giving it a sorrowful look. The white flowers on Choắt’s grave seemed to glow with a mournful, tragic light. The sky was still, the clouds had ceased their movement, and everything was silent, save for the sound of the wind, like the notes of a piano, and the water seemed to sing a sacred hymn to guide Choắt’s spirit to the beyond...

In that deeply sorrowful atmosphere, I stood silently by Dế Choắt’s grave. I reflected on the past with regret and sorrow. If only I hadn’t teased chị Cốc, Choắt wouldn’t have had to lose his life. Now, standing before his grave, I realize my mistake and understand that I must correct it. I thought:

How could I have known: being reckless and arrogant only leads to paying the price for my foolish actions. All the mistakes were mine. If I hadn’t teased chị Cốc, Dế Choắt would still be alive. I thought of Dế Choắt’s parting words, a sincere piece of advice that had pulled me away from my usual arrogance: “In life, reckless behavior without thinking will eventually bring harm to oneself.” I stood still for a long time, reflecting on the first lesson of life, thinking about everyone and my actions, feeling deeply remorseful: “Don’t worry, Choắt, rest in peace, I will correct my mistakes while there’s still time. I will keep your words in mind and not let you down!”

The sun was nearly set, casting only a faint light across the space. I bent down to scoop up a handful of dirt and placed it on Choắt’s grave. I took one last look at Choắt’s grave, then turned away, resolute, walking off...

The wind still blew, the grass and flowers rustled, bowing toward Choắt’s grave in a final farewell. Dew had fallen, drops of moisture on the grass, on Choắt’s grave. The sun had completely set, but the grass still whispered, the wind howled, and the dew continued to fall. The white mist created an image of a cricket bowing its head, slowly walking away.

I am a cricket with a powerful build, yet my personality was prideful and arrogant. This very arrogance unknowingly led to the tragic death of Dế Choắt, my poor neighbor.

I have a comfortable place to live. Every day, I dig the earth, repair my den, create new sleeping spots, and even plan escape routes, secret doors, and emergency exits. Thanks to my balanced diet, I have a strong body. My legs are muscular and shiny, my claws are sharp and pointed; my wings form a long coat that covers my tail. My head is larger than usual, with two sharp black teeth like scythes. My long antennae sway gracefully.

I often mock everyone around me. When no one responded, I took it as a sign of admiration, thinking everyone must respect me. The grasshoppers and the long-legged locusts nearby were often my targets. But the one I looked down on the most was Dế Choắt, a thin and weak cricket. One day, I went to visit Dế Choắt’s home and saw it in disarray, so I commented:

- Why do you live like this? Your place is a mess! What if someone comes and wrecks it? You’re strong physically but lack wisdom.

Dế Choắt sadly asked me to dig a tunnel to connect our homes, so that we could help each other in times of need. But I arrogantly ignored his request, sneering and refusing.

One day, after a heavy rain, birds gathered around a puddle looking for food. Sister Cốc perched near the hole. I jokingly urged Dế Choắt to play with her, but he was frightened and refused. In my arrogance, I mocked Sister Cốc, and she became furious, searching for the one who dared tease her. Seeing her approach, I quickly hid in my den, lying lazily. Suddenly, I heard Sister Cốc’s voice:

- What did you say?

- Oh no, I said nothing!

- Denying it? Deny this! Deny this!

After that, I heard the screams of Dế Choắt. I lay still, too afraid to move. Only when Sister Cốc flew away did I crawl out and find Dế Choắt barely breathing. I panicked, knelt down, and held his head, lamenting:

- I never imagined it would end like this. I deeply regret it! It’s all my fault. What should I do now?

At that moment, Dế Choắt whispered to me:

- I’m too weak now, death is inevitable. But I advise you, in life, arrogance and lack of thought will only bring harm.

After Dế Choắt’s death, I felt an overwhelming sorrow. I buried him in a quiet meadow and stood before his grave for hours, reflecting on my mistakes. The greatest regret was how I had treated Dế Choắt so poorly. Had I been brave enough to own up to my mistake and apologize sincerely, perhaps Dế Choắt wouldn’t have been unjustly harmed. I was proud of my strength, yet I failed to use it to protect him, and instead, I caused his harm. Not only was I sad, but I also felt empty, having to face the reality that he was gone. I now must live with the responsibility of his death, striving to live harmoniously and show respect to those around me.

My name is Dế Mèn. One day, my mother told me it was time for me to live on my own. She said I had grown up and needed to become independent. I was filled with excitement and enthusiasm.

Because I ate properly and worked with balance, I grew up quickly. Soon, I became a strong, young cricket. My legs became shiny and sleek. The spines on my feet and knees grew stiffer and sharper. My wings, once short and fragile, now spread out like a long coat, reaching to the tip of my tail. When I leapt, my wings made a sharp, crisp sound. As I walked, my body swayed with a glossy, brown sheen that was quite attractive. My head grew larger, full of stubbornness, and my black teeth were always chewing like two sickles at work. My antennae grew long and curved, a proud feature I often showed off to others. I would frequently pause, lift my legs, and carefully groom my antennae with great pride.

I was a mischievous one. I often picked fights with everyone in the neighborhood. I would tease the Grasshoppers by the riverbank, make fun of the Gongs wandering in the swamp. I began to believe I was the greatest, thinking I was destined to rule the world. But it was my arrogance and reckless behavior that led to a huge mistake.

One of my neighbors was Dế Choắt, a weak, small cricket. He was thin and lanky, looking almost like a drug addict. Lacking strength, Dế Choắt could only dig a shallow burrow close to the ground, just enough to fit himself but not move much. One day, I visited him and found his burrow messy. I mocked him for being careless and lazy. Dế Choắt wasn’t upset; instead, he asked me to dig a tunnel to my burrow, so we could help each other if there was danger. I refused without a second thought and left without caring.

For several days, it rained heavily, and the water levels in the ponds and lakes rose rapidly, flooding the area. Fish and crabs swam about, and waterfowl gathered in large groups. As I pondered, I suddenly saw a Coot fly up from the water and land near my burrow. Being mischievous, I decided to tease the Coot. I called out, inviting Dế Choắt to join me. He begged me not to provoke the Coot, but I ignored his plea.

I scolded Dế Choắt for being so afraid and then began teasing the Coot. She was preening her feathers when she heard my call and immediately froze, preparing to fly away. But as she gathered herself, she turned and glared, as though ready to fight. She slowly waddled toward my burrow and shouted, demanding to know who dared to challenge her. I quickly ducked into my burrow, leaving her angry outside.

The Coot didn’t see me, but it seemed she noticed Dế Choắt fumbling at the entrance of my burrow. Without listening to his explanation, she attacked him fiercely. Her beak, sharp as an iron rod, stabbed into his back, piercing the earth. Dế Choắt, trapped in the burrow, cried out in pain, his spine bent and unable to move. I heard his cries in terror. After the Coot flew away, I cautiously crawled out. I found Dế Choắt lying in agony, crying bitterly. He was too weak to get up, breathing faintly. I panicked and knelt beside him, apologizing for my reckless actions that had caused him this harm. Dế Choắt, weak as he was, whispered to me: 'When you live with arrogance and no thought for others, you’ll eventually bring misfortune upon yourself.'

Filled with regret, I buried Dế Choắt in a quiet, grassy spot. I built a large mound for his grave. I stood there for a long time, reflecting on my first life lesson. I promised myself that I would never again act with such pride and arrogance.

My name is Dế Mèn. Because I eat and live moderately, I am quite strong and healthy. My legs are glossy, with sharp, hard claws; my wings form a long coat that covers my tail. My head has grown large, and my teeth are black and sharp like two sickles. My long antennae stand tall. I enjoy provoking everyone around me. I yell at the grasshoppers across the field, and sometimes, I kick the mud-loving beetle to tease him. Most people don’t say much, mostly because they respect me. But I consider myself superior. Little did I know that my arrogant, combative nature would lead to a disaster.

My neighbor is Dế Choắt, a thin and weak grasshopper, always gentle and timid. One day, I went to his house and saw it was messy. I scolded him, 'How can you live so recklessly? Your house is a disaster. If anyone comes to destroy it, you'll be in big trouble. You might be big, but you're not smart.'

Dế Choắt looked sad. He asked me to dig a tunnel between our houses, so we could help each other if needed. I scolded him, 'Pfft! You smell like a filthy bird. How could I live with that? If you don't take care of yourself, you're doomed.'

After saying that, I left without thinking twice, leaving Dế Choắt to face his struggles alone.

One day after the rain, a flock of birds gathered around a puddle to hunt for food. I teasingly dared Dế Choắt to flirt with a bird nearby, but he hesitated. I arrogantly made fun of the bird, but it got angry and began looking for me. I quickly hid in a hole, while Dế Choắt was left to face the wrath of the bird. I heard him pleading, 'Please, I didn’t say anything.' But the bird didn’t listen, and soon, Dế Choắt was badly hurt.

When the bird finally flew away, I crawled out and saw Dế Choắt barely alive. I rushed to help him, crying, 'I never meant for things to end this way. It’s all my fault. What should I do now?' Dế Choắt whispered, 'It’s too late for me, but remember this: arrogance and thoughtlessness will always bring disaster.'

Dế Choắt passed away, and I was filled with deep regret. After burying him in a grassy field, I stood by his grave for hours, reflecting on my mistakes. I had learned my first, painful life lesson.

Every year, when winter ends and spring arrives, I can't help but reflect on my age. Looking at the young grasshoppers, I see so much of myself in them: quick, enthusiastic, but impulsive. That's why, from time to time, I share my past adventures with my children and grandchildren, hoping they can learn from them. Today, as I remember my old neighbor, Dế Choắt, I can't help but recall a sorrowful memory I never wish to revisit.

One spring morning, with a light drizzle in the air, the young grasshoppers gathered at my house. In a nostalgic moment, I remembered my poor friend, Dế Choắt, who met a tragic fate because of me. 'Children,' I said, 'do you know I once had a neighbor named Dế Choắt? His house was right next door. He was not as fortunate as I, often sick and frail. His body was thin, lanky like a drug addict, and his face was always absent-minded. He lived carelessly because his constant illnesses prevented him from doing anything. His house was poorly built, with shallow burrows and no escape routes in case of danger. He never thought ahead. I grew angry and looked down on him because of it. I was healthy and quick, and with the impulsiveness of youth, I often mocked him. One day, I visited his home, saw the mess, and scolded him harshly, 'You may be big, but you're not wise.' I didn’t think much before speaking. In response, Dế Choắt only remained silent, and his meekness made me feel even more superior. When he timidly asked if I could dig a tunnel to his house for safety, I refused without hesitation, mocking him as I left, leaving him alone in his unfortunate state.

One day, I had an idea to prank the bird, Chị Cốc, and suggested that Dế Choắt join me. But when he heard her name, he became terrified and begged me to reconsider. But I had no fear. Annoyed, I teased Chị Cốc to show Dế Choắt how brave I was. Chị Cốc, however, was not so forgiving. Upon hearing my taunt, she glared at me and spread her wings, preparing to fight. In fear, I immediately hid in a hole, leaving Dế Choắt to face the consequences. I didn’t think of him at that moment, nor could I have imagined what was about to happen. Even today, the thought still sends shivers down my spine.

Chị Cốc didn’t find me, but she saw Dế Choắt standing outside. She wrongly blamed him for provoking her, and despite his attempts to explain, she vented her anger on him. I remained silent in my hole, too afraid to move. I could feel the fear of Dế Choắt, and when Chị Cốc finally left, I dared to crawl out and check on him. It was worse than I imagined. Dế Choắt lay still, barely alive. The realization hit me like a wave—I was responsible. I tried to apologize, but it was too late. Dế Choắt, weak as he was, spoke to me in his final moments: 'In life, if you act with thoughtlessness and aggression, without using your mind, you will eventually bring trouble upon yourself.' And with those words, Dế Choắt passed away. He left me with my first, painful lesson in life.