Healing Song

Spring returns to the mountain slopes, as gentle as the breath of the earth. White clouds drift lazily across the stilt houses, and sunlight sprinkles golden light on the mossy stone steps. In this setting, the sound of the zither suddenly rings out, clear and pure, like a dewdrop melting in the morning.

The Then chant heralds the arrival of spring.

The traveler paused by the slope. The sound of a musical instrument emanated from the small house at the edge of the village – gentle, profound, as if telling a story, yet softly calling out someone's name. He recognized the melody, the folk song the highland girl had sung one spring afternoon long ago. At that time, she sat on the porch, her indigo dress fluttering in the wind, her eyes as clear as spring water. Her voice resonated through the mountains and forests, bringing a sense of calm to his heart, a heart that had traveled through countless lands.

Her singing was like a stream flowing through the heart, soothing the wounds of life. In each note, there was longing, love, and a profound peace that the traveler could not find in the city. She sang about spring, about the young man going to the fields, about the late-blooming peach blossoms, about the hope of reunion after days of separation. Her voice made time seem to stand still, leaving only the echoes of her heart carried on the wind.

Then spring passed. He left the village, carrying with him the lingering sound of the folk song. Far away, amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, sometimes just hearing a folk melody would send his heart soaring back to the misty mountains. He would see the image of the girl from years ago – her petite figure, her gentle gaze, and her hands playing the instrument as if recounting a dream that had not yet faded.

There are memories that need no name. They simply remain there, like the sound of a traditional Vietnamese folk song amidst the spring mist – clear, tinged with sadness, yet enough to believe that music , like love, always has a unique way to heal the voids in the soul.

Spring has arrived again. The wind still blows across the mountain slopes, and the peach blossoms still bloom. The traveler smiles softly, listening to the sound of the zither echoing somewhere in the wind. Deep within him, he knows, that melody still resonates – as if spring had never truly departed.

Source: https://baotuyenquang.com.vn/van-hoa/202602/khuc-then-chua-lanh-27f38c4/