A long, long time ago
Soil particles absorb rain dust.
A garden of purple blossoms, violet branches
A long, long time ago
My mother knitted a red sweater.
The full moon shone brightly all night.
As children grow older, they forget.
The image of a mother in the old days, a painting of a beautiful woman.
My mother's hands were once as soft as silk.
I once wanted to go back to my old home.
Touching the gate of my house has turned it into someone else's house.
But how can one count the raindrops that fall on mother's hair?
This place is bathed in golden sunshine, like honey in the spring.
My mother has been living in the South for half her life, so she's gotten used to it.
I miss those winters filled with clouds and wind, sometimes full, sometimes empty.
Arrange a vase of flowers, no matter how many colors and fragrances you have.
Missing a sprig of violet
I suddenly realized I was the same age as my mother was back then.
Source: https://thanhnien.vn/tuoi-me-tho-cua-ha-minh-185260202002608622.htm
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