Old bamboo bed on the porch

Nguyen Van Song

There used to be a thin bed on the porch.

The jasmine flowers bloom under the moonlight.

With mother's gentle fanning

There are fairytale seasons that appear in real life.

Father travels to the ends of the earth.

Back to listening to the stories of the countryside.

Strong teapot, packet of tobacco.

Together with my father, we endured the hardships of sun and rain.

You get old in the morning and at noon.

The betel quid my mother gave me has a fragrant aroma.

Village gossip and field stories

The bench sits silently amidst the flow of time.

I went home to a bed with broken slats.

Parents are like smoke that dissipates in this life.

Lying on the bed, listening to the sound of the rain falling.

I sat and counted the ebb and flow of my life.

Source: https://baodaklak.vn/van-hoa-du-lich-van-hoc-nghe-thuat/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/202506/chong-tre-them-cu-b0e022c/