The place where he returned that spring.
For ten years, I was away from home fighting in the war.
A place where my mother and younger sibling take care of me.
The waves of the Tra River are never calm.
In the Trường Sơn mountains, I often think of you.
The sun is too strong, and the folk songs are shy.
The rice plant is in its prime, the rice plant is not shy.
I went to work in the fields without a conical hat.
The melody of the traditional Vietnamese opera flows with a languid rhythm.
During the fragrant stage of betel nut and pomelo scents.
The rice plant's blossoming ears of grain fills my heart with confusion.
From what horizon do these eyes stir with emotion?
The alluvial soil of the Red River dyes the strings of the conical hat.
The hat strap binds his heart to the shore and the harbor.
Spring has arrived, as promised.
I'm about to cross the bridge.
Why is the rhythm "luu khong"?
Even though he is a son of the Red River Delta.
He still believed, with a vague, uncertain belief.
A place where swallows escape the winter and come to live.
Once again, it is the place where the new spring gathers...
Every year, the longan blossoms turn white along the dike.
The bees fly back on their own to collect nectar.
He felt sorry for his mother going to the fields barefoot.
The sun was scorching, the cold biting at the skin...
These lands are always full of flowers.
Spring has arrived, and it's so dear to me.
Those faces were strangely bright.
This is the beauty of my homeland, Thai Binh!
Where traditional folk songs and rice plants grow side by side.
Where spring returns endlessly.
And this afternoon the Pacific Ocean is filled with salty winds.
Her figure returns, suspended in the color of the alluvial soil.
Source: https://www.sggp.org.vn/mua-xuan-o-mien-dat-hat-cheo-va-cay-lua-post838262.html
