Calling home

Tran Thanh Thoa

Gently uttering the call of home.

The echoes of the flowers and grass lead me back to the old place.

Encountering the fragrant scent of rice fields.

The dragonfly glides aimlessly, as if just dreaming.

 

Back to the waterfront and the pond.

Scoop up a few sips of clear folk poetry.

The riverbank is covered in white blossoms of the mangrove tree.

The boat's shadow falls upon the drifting verses.

 

Rain from the source, lightning from the distant sea.

Coming here, I silently call out to the mountains and hills of my homeland.

Picking up authentic six-eight verses

The fragrant scent of ripening rice blossoms lulls the heart with its melodious sound.

 

Banyan leaves fall onto the temple courtyard.

Out of compassion for those far from home, I bow my head in remembrance of my homeland.

Dust blurs the mountain slopes.

The lullaby guides us back to the straw...

Source: https://baodaklak.vn/van-hoa-du-lich-van-hoc-nghe-thuat/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/202504/goi-que-35b0666/