Rain music...

(Baonghean) - The city is wet with rain. It's the first summer shower, so everything seems new and unfamiliar. May arrives so quickly, boisterous and impulsive, yet so gentle. Even in the sunshine, it feels a little stuffy, making one think of the hot, dry winds from Laos…

Early summer rain shower on Nguyen Thi Minh Khai street. Photo: Duy Hung

But in the early days of May, the weather was still very mild. And when the first shower fell on the city, people felt delighted, as if something new was coming, as if being refreshed by the pure air. In the triangular flower garden, along Quang Trung, Le Loi, and Le Hong Phong streets, the rain drifted with the wind, causing the bushes to sway, and the grass glistened with rainwater clinging to its vibrant green.

On rainy days like these, I love wandering along Vinh Street. Putting on my raincoat, I just ride my motorbike through the rushing water. Then I'll stop at a roadside stall, sit on an old, waterlogged wooden chair under the flimsy tarp that's weighed down by the rain. Perhaps in my hometown, life is more peaceful when it rains.

In the bustling little city of Vinh, the rain brings a quieter atmosphere. The melody of the rain in Vinh's streets carries a sense of calm, a slight lull in the noise, enough to bring peace, enough to pause as a moment of rest.

Sometimes in life, we need to pause and rest. That moment of silence can be when we realize who we are and where we are heading. In music, rests are just as important as other notes. They are the sound of silence, the ultimate end of all resonance.

Many times, amidst the rain in Vinh City, I stopped to look within myself, to listen to the echoes within. There were notes that were once vibrant, melodies that were once weary, even mournful and resentful… But more than ever, at this moment, I know I am pausing at a tranquil silence, when all the noise and superficiality have passed, and I myself realize that I need to cherish everything.

I remember those early days in the city, when rain greeted me. The rain blurred the streets. Only the streetlights, diligently shining in the rain, remained. I have a special connection to Quang Trung Street, not only because my workplace was located there at the time, but also because my life has been intertwined with it. In the old apartment buildings, rainwater seeped through, soaking into the crumbling walls.

With the kapok tree's blossoms in March, it seems compelled to express its dazzling solitude. With the sidewalk stalls selling dried squid and roasted sweet potatoes, and the women who would always startle me with their greetings, then burst into boisterous laughter: "Ah, a familiar face…" Once, in my old office on the second floor, I stood watching the torrential rain on the banyan trees in summer. Hastily written verses, though I didn't know if they would even become poetry, suddenly echoed frantically in my head, following the rhythm of the falling rain: “…The rain roars / The rain thirsts / The rain rushes / The rain shouts / The earth steams intensely in the afternoon / In the frantic, hurried frenzy / I hear these words rising from the leaves / Who can escape themselves?”

Speaking of nighttime rain. For those of us far from home, every night brings a wave of nostalgia. Quang Trung Street, also known as National Highway 1, used to be filled with long-distance buses before the Vinh bypass was built. The sound of these buses tearing through the rain in the night was indescribably melancholic. Beneath each tire track, how many travelers were dreaming of reunion? And what was that voice, lost in the rain? A voice, almost soaked, calling out: "Hot steamed buns for sale…?"

Rain at night in Vinh City. Photo: Duy Hung

Dreams sometimes feel more real than reality. Their voice is sometimes more powerful than anything that exists in the world. They can make people realize the sweet happiness or the deepest suffering in the most profound parts of their subconscious. And upon waking, they know they need to be more tolerant and loving towards others, to rely on each other to lessen the burdens of worry and sorrow. And each rain shower is like a dream.

It erases or blurs everything, even if only for a moment, but that's when we can pause at a street corner. Perhaps we can stop at a small roadside stall, look outside, and I believe that's also a way to look back at ourselves. To see what calling, what echo is present or urging us on. Or sometimes just to listen to the sound of the rain falling…

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