Let's enjoy this beautiful poem: Lulling the Storm

QTO - Sleep now, the last storm of the season

Is it rain or a mother's tears, so boundless?

The toads under the bed keep croaking.

Grinding teeth or grinding intestines causes more pain.

The village fields were completely flooded and slippery.

A mother's lullaby is carried away by the wind.

The turtle carrying a rock on its back at the temple.

The mother's back was wet, but the turtle's back was dry.

She sat silently reciting "Namo" (a Buddhist prayer).

Hopefully the water will recede so the chicken coop can dry up.

The lullaby sounds like weeping in the distant fields.

Is the mother rocking the storm to sleep or rocking her child to sleep?

The lights flickered in the wind.

The image of my frail mother, worn down by worry, fades into indistinctness.

He couldn't get over the cough.

And give the torn shirt to the sieve.

She sewed up her tears.

He mended the broken pieces of the village's soul that nurtured me.

Storms have passed for decades.

People follow the incense smoke to a place of silence.

The old folk verse I hold

A mother's lullaby sprouts again in her hands.

Lullaby for the green rice plants

I stand here, lost in thought, in the golden sunlight this afternoon...

She threw herself into the village field.

Now who will mend the sieve for you, sieve?

Le Dinh Tien

Illustration: HH

Comment:

Never before has our country suffered so many consecutive storms recently, which have hit the S-shaped strip of land that one poet likened to "a dike on the peninsula." A predominantly agricultural country with a long-standing rice-based civilization is facing floods and storms that cause so much tragedy, submerging fields, rice paddies, houses, villages, and leaving behind indelible marks of flood and storm damage.

Poet Le Dinh Tien, a simple and honest son of a poor rural village, is a skilled writer of lục bát (a traditional Vietnamese poetic form). Recently, he won a high prize in the poetry competition "Poetry and Roots." His poetry begins with the haunting folk traditions of his homeland, with subtle and vivid details that evoke the soul and spirit of the village through the figures of his loved ones. His poem "Lullaby for the Storm" depicts his mother, grandmother, and grandfather—farmers who have anchored their homeland with their very lives and spirits through countless storms and floods.

When reading poems about storms, I expected to encounter images of raging rain and wind, and the resentment of people towards the harshness of nature. But no, here the poet "lulls the storm," lulling it calmly, to dispel all the hardships, struggles, and strain, to release the strength needed to fight the storm. This is also a way of calmly and confidently positioning oneself to overcome the ferocity and destruction of the storm. Perhaps it is a gentle yet powerful way of responding, a benevolent direction, a resilient determination.

Le Dinh Tien's poetry often employs folk expressions to convey new messages: "Under the bed, the toad keeps croaking to the heavens / Is grinding teeth or grinding one's guts more painful?" originates from the idiom: "The toad is the nephew of the sky god." Or: "The turtle carries a stone on the temple / The mother's back is wet, but the turtle's back is still dry" begins from a folk legend. This is what connects his poetry to the village consciousness, to the soul of the village. Village culture is an inexhaustible force, helping us recognize the humanistic value of its simple, genuine beauty, which is also enduring and profound.

"Lullaby for the Storm" begins with images of rain and mother: "Is it rain or mother's tears, so vast?" and: "The village fields are flooded white and slippery / Mother's lullaby is wet through the wind." The mother's "lullaby for the storm" also represents the wish for the natural disaster to pass quickly, a comforting solace: "Sleep, the storm is over in the fields." The poem exudes compassion and tolerance, a gentle yet resolute acceptance of all challenges. It also conveys a message: "The lullaby is like weeping in the distant fields / Is mother lulling the storm or lulling her child?" The mother's image in the dim lamplight is a flickering flame, full of shared experiences: "The lamplight flickers in the wind / The mother's frail figure, worn down by worry, is hazy." For the grandmother and grandfather, the worry is very specific, fitting the psychology of old age: "The grandmother sits silently praying / Hoping the water recedes so the chicken coop dries"; and the grandfather: "He can't overcome his cough / He still gives his tattered shirt to the sieve."

I really appreciate the small but "shining" details in Le Dinh Tien's poetry. These are subtle observations and discoveries, and more importantly, a profound and intimate understanding of human experiences, deeply felt in the face of countless lives. Interestingly, there's a character that seems inanimate but haunts the reader: the image of the sieve that sifts through the chaff, the heavy rains, the fierce winds and mists. The sieve is a small farming tool intimately connected to the farmer. I once wrote the line: "Is it the mother harvesting the field, or the field sifting the mother?"

The poem "Lullaby for the Storm" recounts a rather touching story about an old man who gave his tattered shirt to a sieve so that: "She sewed with tears in two rows / Replacing him, mending the fragments of the village's soul that nurtured me" - a truly beautiful, moving, poignant, haunting, and masterful line of poetry.

The mother "lulls the storm" to overcome it: "The mother's lullaby sprouts again in her hands / A lullaby for the green rice plants." A seed of life sprouts from the storm, a steadfast determination. This is also a yearning for life, a final ode to the love of life, the love of humanity, the love of the fields—a very concrete love that has embodied, accompanied, and persuaded. The tone of the poem softens towards the end with a compassionate conclusion: "She threw herself into the village field / Now who will mend the sieve for her, sieve?" This is also a wake-up call, a self-reflection to help us live better, more honestly, and overcome our own storms.

Nguyen Ngoc Phu

Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/van-hoa/202510/den-voi-bai-tho-hay-ru-bao-f86374c/