From the narrow, sloping land of Central Vietnam, I arrived in the vast, flat Mekong Delta, like a giant hand, crisscrossed by countless rivers and canals, adding to the boundless expanse during the flood season. The feeling was overwhelming as my gaze stretched endlessly across the fields; the rivers lapped against the banks, and along the roads, if not crossing bridges, I encountered ferry crossings; the orchards were full of colorful seasonal crops; and the fragrant fish, shrimp, flowers, and plants filled the air, creating a simple, rustic, and heartwarming rural meal…
The feeling was overwhelming, indescribable in words; all I could do was keep the emotions to myself and ponder them alone. Because that was the initial feeling, it's not easy to express the vastness and depth of the land and people of the Mekong Delta when I'm just a traveler.
When I too am just a traveler, unlike the white clouds in the delta sky...
Elsewhere, clouds arrive like distant guests carried by the monsoon winds, perhaps from the rolling mountains or the vast, boundless ocean. But perhaps it is because of the intricate and expansive waterways of the Mekong Delta that, every morning and evening, tiny water droplets leave their mother rivers, their vast fields, their fresh green leaves… to ascend to the clear blue sky on a journey, drawn by the alluring sun high above. They drift and gather in clusters. These pure, sparkling droplets, carefully gathered from the river and field waters brimming with silt, from the trees and leaves of the orchards… make the clouds so smooth, light, pure white, and incredibly soft!
As time passes, from morning to evening, depending on the season, the clouds take on different shapes and colors. I arrived in the Mekong Delta during the flood season, so I witnessed the transformation of the delta clouds, from fluffy white like giant snowflakes against a clear blue sky, slowly turning to a light gray, then gradually darkening like an artist's hand pressing and emphasizing with a pencil on a canvas stretched out before them. The innocent, fluffy white clouds drifted and swayed, pushing against each other, then swirling into a gray curtain hanging suspended above the treetops… Amidst the rumbling thunder, the heavy clouds compressed the space, like fish struggling to swim against the current.
Then came the rain. A torrential downpour from the delta arrived in the afternoon. The rain frolicked on the rooftops, and poured down on the swaying trees in the garden. The rain returned to the rivers and fields the water droplets that, just moments before, had lingered, reluctantly leaving their mother stream to condense in the sky… The cycle of clouds in this land seems so short; from morning to evening, these invisible, intangible drops have returned to their old home, their hearts filled with regret for not having wandered enough. Like a wanderer just beginning his journey in a strange land, he hasn't yet "heard the sound of rice boiling," so he hasn't had time to "miss home," not yet experiencing the feeling of "white clouds in the distant sky, and a white heart" as the poet Pham Huu Quang from the river region felt a sudden pang of "wandering."
Oh, how short life is! Before we even have a chance to wander freely, the clouds, amidst the expansive space of the Mekong Delta, have already fulfilled their wanderlust. Like the hearts of the people here, they sit in one place, yet their meaning and affection spread far and wide. The delta clouds drift across the vast expanse of fields, gardens, rivers, and waterways, amidst the boundless warmth and hospitality of the people. Perhaps that's why their form is so relaxed and light, not constrained by the desire to wander, yet "so cramped" like the "Clouds at the edge of the street" in the poem by Quang Dung of the Doai region: "Clouds at the edge of the street, wandering clouds / Oh! How cramped / In the street corner." The clouds of the Mekong Delta remind me of Huy Can's clouds on some afternoon before the "Long River," a vast, boundless expanse of nature, "Layers of high clouds piling up like silver mountains"...
Sitting and watching the endless raindrops fall, my heart longs for the clouds, as if remembering the innocent purity that once shaped the sky of our youth. No matter how poor we were, it was always a place to return to. Like returning to a sacred corner hidden deep within our souls, to cleanse ourselves of the dust that everyone has encountered in their life's journey, to reflect on ourselves and add a little more kindness to our baggage before moving on in life...
Like the rivers and clouds of the delta region…
Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/may-chau-tho--a194396.html
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