Early autumn

The scent of flowers in the street,

Who accidentally stopped

Autumn comes and goes very quietly,

Light as the wind through the yard...

Milk flowers are beginning to bloom. Along the small streets, the green treetops hang down clusters of tiny white buds, shy like dew drops on the canopy of leaves. The flower scent is not yet strong, just lingering somewhere in the wind, enough to make someone in a hurry suddenly slow down and look up to search. That flower scent, though fragile, has a strange power to awaken memories, evoking the old autumns in the highlands of Son La, the poor but peaceful years.

That day autumn came early,

Clouds across the hillside,

Smoke from the kitchen permeates the roof and floor,

The yellow corn smells so good.

At that time, Son La did not have many wide streets, nor did it have rows of milk flower trees as straight as it does now. When autumn came, the cool breeze blew through the simple roofs, carrying with it the pungent smell of smoke from the thatched roofs on the hillsides. We children ran barefoot on the dirt roads, occasionally tripping over a stone and just smiling without feeling any pain. In the autumn of that time, there were no milk flowers, but there were rows of bright yellow corn on the fields, patches of yellow mustard flowers swaying on the mountain slopes, and the gentle sound of Mong flutes in the highland markets.

I remember the chilly mornings, the mountain mist covered the valley, my grandmother lit the fire when it was still dark. We huddled around the fire, our hands out to warm ourselves, listening to the crackling of firewood and the distant crowing of roosters. Every autumn, we didn’t have enough food to eat, didn’t have enough clothes to wear, but our hearts were filled with love. The hunger and cold seemed to melt away when we heard the cheerful laughter of my mother and grandmother, when the hot bowl of pumpkin soup was passed around on the old wooden table.

Now, the mountain town is different from before. The roads are wider, more beautiful, the houses are taller, the streets are filled with electric lights and the rows of milk flower trees embrace the long streets. But every time autumn comes, the faint scent of milk reminds me of the old afternoons, when Son La's sky was filled with smoke from the kitchen stoves, when the wind from the mountain slopes carried the scent of dry forest leaves mixed with the chirping of flocks of flying birds. Those were the autumns that were simple but pure, poor but full of human love.

The scent of flowers brings memories,

Back to the childhood days,

The sun shines on the old roof,

Smoke hovered over the dream.

Perhaps, the milk flower blooms today to scent the whole street corner, but in my heart, that scent also stirs up many old memories. Between the current autumn and the autumn of years gone by, just a whiff of scent, two memories suddenly meet, making people's hearts both warm and heavy.

Son La mountain town today is more bustling than before, but if on a chilly afternoon, we stand quietly under the milk flower tree, close our eyes, we can still hear the clear laughter of the children of the past, see the afternoon smoke rising from the distant stilt houses, and hear the familiar calls from the early markets, the voices of mothers, sisters, the voices of a peaceful time gone by.

When night falls, the yellow lights spread across the streets, the milk flowers bloom with a stronger fragrance, as if embracing the whole sky. In the hazy night mist, the small clusters of flowers are like stars falling from the sky, quietly giving off a deep fragrance. The autumn wind seeps through each window, carrying the whispers of the old seasons, so that today's passersby still feel like they belong to a distant memory, where the old autumn is still intact in their hearts.

One chilly evening, in the middle of a city filled with golden lights, I quietly listened to the breath of time. In that moment, the scent of milk flowers permeated the air, gentle yet profound, like an invisible thread connecting the present with the past, connecting today's changes with old memories, connecting the footsteps that have gone far with the heart that still remains.

Autumn sunshine spread across the mountainside.

It turns out, the milk flower is still the same, only we have changed. But thanks to its scent, we realize that the memories have never disappeared, but are just quietly in a corner of our hearts, waiting for some autumn to gently awaken.

Milk flowers fall at the top of the street,

I remember the scent of years ago,

Autumn is never far away,

Just hide somewhere.

Perhaps, autumn is inherently the season of nostalgia. And the milk flower is the silent bridge, bringing the children of Son La back to their own memories. In each of those scents, there is the rhythm of life of today’s mountain town, the breath of innocent childhood and a whole sky of old love.

Autumn comes, the flowers eventually fade, but the scent of milk flowers still remains like a long silence in the heart of the mountain town. It stays, like the way memories stay in each person's heart, reminding us that there were once beautiful autumns, autumns that were poor but full of love and precious memories.

Source: https://baosonla.vn/van-hoa-van-nghe-the-thao/chom-thu-lDKI0hrNg.html