Top 8 Most Notable Poems from the French Resistance

Purple Sim Flowers is a poignant poem about the fight against French colonial forces. Written by poet Hữu Loan in 1949, it was dedicated to his late wife, Lê Đỗ Thị Ninh. The poem recounts the story of a young couple who marry during the war. The husband, a soldier, returns home only to learn that his beloved wife has passed away. The poem conveys deep sorrow and the relentless pain of loss caused by war. It also reflects the poet’s enduring love for his wife. The image of the purple sim flower symbolizes both a wedding dress and the deep, lasting love Hữu Loan had for her. As such, it is often regarded as one of the most beautiful love poems of the 20th century.

Excerpt from the poem:

"She had three brothers in the army

And younger sisters

One who could not yet speak

Her hair was green and young

I, a soldier of the Resistance

Far from home

Loved her as a brother loves a sister

On our wedding day

She didn't ask for a new dress

I wore my military uniform

With boots caked in mud from the march

She smiled so beautifully

Beside her unique husband

After our marriage, I went back to my unit

From distant battlefields

And I thought of her with great care

In wartime, how could she wait for me

If I never returned

She was left waiting

And she passed away before me

When I came home, she was no longer there

My mother sat by her grave, surrounded by darkness

The wedding vase became a funeral urn

Her hair was short, no longer green

We never had a chance to speak again

We never saw each other one more time

Once, she loved the purple sim flowers

Her dress was of purple sim flowers

The soldiers on the Northeast front heard of her death

The morning wind felt cold by the river

The yellow light of evening slowly faded

Purple sim flowers still bloomed on the hills

And their blooms stretched endlessly in the evening...

The poem The Homeland by Nguyễn Đình Thi paints a picture of Vietnam's tragic yet heroic landscape amidst the chaos of war. What was once peaceful and serene is now devastated and in ruins, revealing the savage crimes committed by colonial forces. The poet skillfully employs vivid imagery and figurative language, transforming initial sorrow into a symbol of strength and courage. Through this, Nguyễn Đình Thi expresses an enduring, undying love for his homeland. The Homeland was once part of the Literature curriculum in Vietnam from 1990 to 2006, before becoming an additional reading in the 12th-grade textbook from 2007 onward.

Excerpt from the poem:

"The morning is as clear as it was long ago

The autumn breeze carries the scent of fresh green rice

I remember the autumns that have passed

The cool mornings in Hanoi

The long streets are stirring with the scent of rain

People leave without a glance back

Behind them, fallen leaves scatter in the sunlight.

This autumn is different now

I stand in joy among the mountains and hills

The wind rustles through the bamboo groves

The autumn sky dons a new coat

And the air is filled with laughter and joy!

The blue sky belongs to us

The mountains and forests belong to us

The fragrant fields

The endless roads

The rivers flowing with red silt

This is our land

This is the land of those who never surrendered

At night, the earth hums with a steady voice

Echoing memories of the past!

Oh, the fields where blood was shed

The barbed wire cuts through the evening sky

The long nights on the battlefield seared with longing

Suddenly, I miss the eyes of my lover.

From those painful years of struggle

Our homeland’s face emerged

From the rice paddies and the sturdy bamboo

Rose the voices of vengeance

The rice bowls filled with tears

The enemy tried to choke us, but failed

Their chains could never bind us

Our skies are filled with birds, our earth adorned with flowers

Their guns and bullets could not strike us

Our people's love for the land is fierce!

The smoke from the factories swirls in the mountain mist

The trumpet calls the soldiers across the fields

The people in simple clothes

Rise to become heroes.

The blazing sun scorches the earth, and the rain pours down

With each step, a sacrifice is made

Our foreheads are burned, but our hearts are full of hope

Our spirits are as vast as the dawn.

The sound of guns shakes the sky

The people rise like the breaking waves

Vietnam, born of fire and blood

Will rise from the mud, shining bright."

Alongside the famous poem Comrade, May Battle Call stands as one of the most outstanding pieces in the poetry collection At the Head of the Gun, Moon Hanging by poet Chính Hữu during the resistance against the French. May Battle Call captures the soldier's thoughts and feelings about the people and homeland, portraying a peaceful land built on rice farming civilization, where simple people possess immense strength and valor when fighting the enemy. The poem conveys the anguish of war, the unyielding military marches, and the scenes of endless struggle. The vivid imagery and echoing of the era's emotions make this poem a remarkable representation of the poet’s heart and mind.

Excerpt from the poem:

"May arrives in the village, it’s harvest time

The people rejoice, grains stretch wide

Some have gone to fight, humble as the earth

Summer is alive with the love of the land

One morning, news comes of a new battle

Weapons ready, hearts stirred with anticipation

Who will return to pass the message to the village?

Once they leave, they vow never to return

In the fall, the bodies of enemies fill the rivers and mountains

In summer, their bodies lay scattered across the fields.

Who will return to plant rice and cotton?

To ensure good harvests of rice and cotton

In the hot noon, the leaves of the banyan tree fall

I march to battle, hearing the calls from all directions.

Gun, oh gun!

The gun has followed me since the fall

The gun marches with me through the summer

It stands by my side to defeat all foes

I miss my old comrade

Smiling, with eyes closed for eternity.

The gun is heavy

The road is long

The shoulders are weak

The clothes are torn

But at dawn, I leave with a smile.

My face burns, with the beat of the drum

My heart races with the cheers

The young ones by the bamboo fence wave their hands

The soul blossoms with stars and fluttering flags..."

The poem Seeking the Revolution by poet Nguyễn Đình Thi sharply condemns the crimes of the French and Japanese colonialists, who brought misery to the people and the land of Vietnam at that time: "The village is surrounded by suffering", "Forced to labor, enlisted in the army, paving roads", "The landowner has a hundred greedy arms, sucking the bones and sweat of our people"... Seeking the Revolution expresses the raw anguish of the people during that period, while also reflecting the clarity of the Viet Minh's revolutionary path and the indomitable spirit of those who heroically sacrificed themselves, ready to give everything for the nation. This poem serves as both a call to action for future generations and a connection between the past and the present, a testament to the struggles our people endured in those harsh times.

Excerpt from the poem:

"Around the village, there is sorrow and despair

The Western rice, the Japanese hemp, all bring misery

Laboring as coolies, soldiers, building roads

The poor have their necks bound by multiple chains

The rice fields ripen, golden with the harvest

But where does the rice go? Who will benefit from it?

The landlord has hundreds of arms

Draining the life and sweat of our people

Rumors spread in the deep green forests

The Viet Minh army rises with the flag of revolution

The golden star lights the path to freedom

The poor people follow, breaking free from oppression

Our base is in the Central Highlands

The army is crossing mountains toward the midlands

The sun pierces through the mist

Our people are breaking free from centuries of prison

Leaflets scattered in the village markets

The red flag rises on the road in broad daylight

The countryside seems ablaze with fire

The rich discuss it, the farmers spread the word

With firm resolve, we step forward

One night, the wind rises, and we escape into freedom."

Camouflage Leaf is a simple yet profound poem by the poet Chinh Huu, expressing deep emotions about homeland, country, and the soldiers. The leaf, with its deep green hue, serves as a metaphor for youth, hope, and the dreams of soldiers during the resistance against the French, with their youthful shoulders bearing the weight of the nation. Unlike previous poems, Camouflage Leaf uses the pronoun 'we' to emphasize both the personal and heroic aspects of the poet's identity.

The poem Camouflage Leaf:

"Ten years, marching tirelessly

Carrying the green of my homeland on my back.

When we are gone,

The camouflage leaf still echoes the songs of the forest birds.

Yearning.

Trees from all corners send their leaves with us

Through hardships day and night in the campaign,

We still hear the hum of our village through

The mountains and rivers in the branches' song."

"Comrade" is one of the most iconic poems of the anti-colonial resistance against the French. Written in 1948, it was published in the collection "The Moon Hanging on the Tip of the Gun" – the only poetry book by Chinh Huu. The author vividly and emotionally portrays the lives of soldiers, capturing their hardships during the war. Moreover, the poem celebrates the unity and shared ideals of comrades who met and joined forces for a common cause. With its simple yet powerful language, "Comrade" paints a vivid image of farmers transforming into heroic soldiers, striking the hearts of readers even today.

The poem Comrade:

"Your homeland is salty and the fields are sour

My village is poor with land that turns to stone

We were strangers before

Meeting by fate, from different parts of the world.

Gun by gun, heads close together

On cold nights, sharing a blanket, becoming close comrades

Comrade!

Your rice fields are entrusted to your friends to plow

Our house is neglected, swaying in the wind

The well under the banyan tree remembers those who went to war.

We knew every shiver of cold,

Fever shaking our bodies, beads of sweat on our brows.

Your shirt torn at the shoulders

My pants patched in several places

Smiles frozen by the biting cold

Feet bare, no shoes

We held each other's hands in solidarity!

Tonight in the wild forest, the salty dew falls

Standing side by side, waiting for the enemy

The moon hangs on the tip of the gun."

Quang Dung is not known for a large number of famous poems, but with just one poem, "Westward March", he has earned a lasting place in the hearts of readers. "Westward March" was created around the same time as "Comrade", but it is approached with a romanticized style. As a result, the poem is filled with a sense of ethereal beauty and rare romance. Not only does it depict the breathtaking and grand landscapes of the Northwestern mountains during the march, but it also paints a portrait of the young soldiers who came from intellectual backgrounds in the capital. These young men put aside their personal dreams to heed the call of the nation. The image of the "Westward Marching troop" is both heroic and majestic, leaving a strong impression on readers across generations.

The poem Westward March:

"The Ma River is far, oh Westward March!

We remember the forests and mountains, lost in thought.

Sai Khao mist envelops the weary soldiers,

Mường Lát’s flowers bloom in the night’s fog.

Curved slopes rise steeply,

Clouds drifting above, rifles grazing the sky.

A thousand meters up, a thousand meters down,

Whose house in Pha Luong, far in the rain.

My comrade, exhausted, can go no further,

Head resting on his rifle, he forgets the world!

In the evening, the waterfall roars with power,

At night, the tiger plays tricks in Mường Hịch.

We remember, oh Westward March, the smoke rising from our meals,

In Mai Chau, the smell of sticky rice fills the air.

The campfire flickers as a festival of torches,

There she is, dressed in her traditional clothes.

The bamboo flute plays her shy tune,

The music echoes all the way to Viên Chăn, building the spirit of poetry.

Those who went to Châu Mộc on that misty evening,

Did you see the soul of the reeds by the riverbank?

Did you remember the figure on the bamboo raft,

Floating through the floodwaters, flowers swaying?

The Westward March soldiers never grew their hair,

Their faces pale as the leaves, fierce as tigers.

With eyes wide open, sending dreams across the border,

At night, they dream of Hanoi and the graceful beauty of the women.

Scattered along the frontier, graves of distant lands,

In battlefields, they gave up their youthful lives.

The uniform replaced by a funeral shroud, the soldier returns to the earth,

The Ma River roars, playing a solo of solitude.

The Westward March, those who left with no promises,

The road ahead is dark, a farewell never to be mended.

Who will go to Westward March this spring,

The soul will return to Sầm Nứa, never to go back."

The poem Viet Bac is excerpted from the same-titled collection written by To Huu in October 1954, when revolutionary officials were returning from Viet Bac to the southern regions. This poem is composed in the traditional six-eight verse form, using the colloquial pronouns 'mình' and 'ta' to help express the author's emotions more openly. The poem conveys the author's deep feelings about the years spent living and working in Viet Bac during the resistance against French colonialism. Having formed a strong bond with this land, To Huu and the other officials returning south were filled with emotions, nostalgic for the past fifteen years. In summary, Viet Bac is a beautiful work of poetry from the resistance era that you should read and reflect upon.

Excerpt from Viet Bac:

"When I return, do you remember me?

Those fifteen years, so full of passion and love.

When I return, do you remember?

Looking at trees reminds me of mountains, looking at rivers reminds me of origins?

Whose voice is yearning across the islet,

Filling the heart with longing, as footsteps falter.

The indigo tunic waves in farewell,

Hand in hand, what words can we speak today?

- When I leave, do you remember those days?

The rains, the swollen streams, the fog and mist?

When I return, do you remember the war zone?

Sharing rice with salt, carrying the weight of vengeance on our backs?

When I return, do the mountains remember me?

The wild fruits fall, the bamboo grows old.

When I leave, do you remember those homes?

The withered grass, the warm hearts of the faithful.

When I return, do I still remember the hills and valleys?

Remembering the days of fighting the Japanese, when the Viet Minh first rose?

When I leave, do I still remember myself?

Tan Trao, Hong Thai, the banyan tree at the old communal house?

- You and I, I and you,

Our hearts, steadfast, remain ever true.

When I leave, I will always remember me,

The source of my strength, as deep as the river's flow...

Remembering you is like remembering a lover,

The moon rises over the mountain peak, the sun sets over the fields.

Remembering each village, where smoke and mist intertwine,

Each morning and night, the fire that keeps us warm.

Remembering each bamboo forest, each riverbank,

Ngoi Thia, Da River, the full and empty streams of Le.

I go, and I remember those days,

You here, I there, together through bitter and sweet...

Caring for one another, sharing the cassava roots,

Sharing a bowl of rice, covering with the same blanket.

Remembering the mother, the sun scorching her back,

Carrying her child to the fields, picking corn cobs.

How can I forget the small classroom, so quiet,

At midnight, with the torchlight shining during our gatherings?

How can I forget the days at the office,

Enduring hardships, but still singing the mountain song.

How can I forget the sound of the drum in the forest at dusk,

The rhythmic beat of the pestle, echoing from the distant stream...

When I return, do you remember me?

When I return, I remember the flowers and people.

The green forests, the red banana flowers,

The mountain pass, the shining knife belt.

Spring blooms, white flowers in the forest,

Remembering the girl weaving hats from rattan strands.

The cicadas call, the forest turns golden,

Remembering the young girl picking bamboo shoots alone.

The autumn moon reflects peace in the forest,

Remembering the song, full of affection and loyalty.

Remembering when the enemy arrived, they searched for us,

We fought them together in the woods and rocky mountains.

The mountains became our iron wall,

The forest shielded our troops, while surrounding the enemy.

The vast land covered in mist,

The earth and sky, all united for the cause.

Who will return, who will remember?

I return and remember Phu Thong, the Giang Pass.

I remember the Lo River, the Rang Town,

Remembering Cao, Lang, and the road to Nhị Ha...

These are the roads of Viet Bac

At night, the footsteps echo like the earth shaking,

The soldiers march in waves,

Stars shine above our rifles, comrades in their conical hats.

Red torchbearers march in rows,

Each step crushing stones, sparks flying into the air.

Thousands of nights, with thick fog all around,

The searchlight brightens like the dawn of tomorrow.

Good news from the victorious battlefields,

Peace returns to Viet Bac and Dien Bien.

Joyful from Dong Thap to An Khe,

Viet Bac rises, from De Pass to Hong Mountain.

Who will return, who will remember?

The red flag flutters in the breeze by the cave's entrance.

The midday sun glows like a golden star.

The central government discusses national affairs,

Military campaigns for the fall and winter,

Rural areas are mobilized, roads are being built,

Protecting dikes, preventing drought, harvesting crops.

Sending tools to the mountains, building more schools...

Wherever the enemy lurks,

Look up to Viet Bac: Uncle Ho's light will guide us.

Wherever the pain is,

We turn to Viet Bac, nurturing our unwavering spirit.

Fifteen years, who could forget?

The revolution’s homeland built the republic.

When I return, I will always remember me,

The communal house in Hong Thai, the banyan tree at Tan Trao..."