I have two poems about trees.

Seeing beauty is a gift from heaven to youth. But beauty contains a vast expanse, so young people can see beauty from different perspectives, see different existences that contain beauty. I see that now, many young people see beauty through a GREEN symbol. That is nature, green trees, blue sky that is less turbid by "fine dust", the surface of rivers and seas that is less polluted, pure souls, kind thoughts, actions to protect forests, participate in planting and caring for trees.

Tell yourself: seeing green trees is seeing beauty. And knowing how to protect green trees is knowing how to promote beauty.

When we love trees, whether we are young or old, we know that we are not old. Because trees seem to be ageless, we love and take care of trees, we are "forever young" with trees. Just like the folk song: " How old is a tree, how old is a tree/How old is a mountain, it is called a mountain ". The serenity of trees, of the green color everywhere on earth, resonates in our souls.

The serenity of green trees is the proud serenity of youth. Now, as we get older, we see that youth is priceless, even though our generation’s youth had to fight in war, endure many hardships and dangers. But that was still the most beautiful youth of our generation when we knew how to dedicate our youth to peace and national unification.

Tôi có hai bài thơ về cây xanh - Ảnh 1. — Author - poet Thanh Thao

I still remember, in July 1987, when my family had the chance to visit Da Lat, staying at the house of a friend of mine, the poet Ha Linh Chi, also known as Anh De Den, I wandered on the small streets of Da Lat, and suddenly discovered many ancient pine trees hundreds of years old were brutally cut down. Since then, people have "known" to cut down priceless ancient pine trees. Outraged by this cutting down, I immediately wrote a short poem, speaking for the voices of the pine trees that were killed. The poem was chosen by poet Bui Minh Quoc, who was then the Chairman of the Lam Dong Literature and Arts Association, to be printed in Liangbiang magazine No. 1, the literature magazine of the Lam Dong Literature and Arts Association, of which Quoc was the Editor-in-Chief. The poem is as follows:

THE PINE TREES CRY

Pine trees rush into the provincial party committee

Clouds stop

We want to live

Smart life

Straight

Throwing hundreds of thousands of sharp leaves

Innocent

Not the umbrella but the vestibule

Our heads are bare in the sun and wind

A strange coolness spreads from us

Take the human beyond us

Pine trees rush into the provincial party committee

Please don't cut us down

July 30, 1987

A gentle poem, calling for not cutting down old pine trees like that, unexpectedly caused poet Bui Minh Quoc to be dragged out for criticism for several days. People accused: "Why dare to say The pine trees rushed into the provincial party committee, are those pine trees protesting?".

If I wrote that now, no one would say anything, and would even praise me. But back then, nearly 40 years ago, things were miserable like that.

Enough to know, preventing dirty hands from destroying forests is not easy.

And only when people truly love green trees, love primeval forests, and hundreds of years old trees, then we can hope to live in a Green society.

Many times, I can mumble and talk to the little green trees that I plant and take care of, because I know that green trees have the ability to listen and understand. Green trees are beautiful, but if we look deeper into green trees, we will feel many things.

Let's lead our young students to green trees, so that they can discover for themselves the natural and innocent beauty of the leaves, branches, and green color of trees, so that they can see that green trees are their cutest friends.

Seven years ago, I wrote the poem I like being a tree , expressing my wish to be a small tree, in harmony with nature, able to preserve itself, and not succumb:

I WISH I WAS A TREE

" Then in my dream I turned into a tree

small green leafy vine with thin branches

Wandering in the dawn city

softly ringing like a little bell "

a living tree

small or big does not matter

a tree

not sold out

whether old or young

a pensive tree

what are you talking about no one can hear