Poems about teaching - a noble profession

Litsea

TEACHING PROFESSION

Sixty years away from teaching

Now the hair on my head is white, my old student comes to visit

My hair is white, my students' hair is also white

The moment teacher and student met, everything suddenly turned green.

The time erasing machine cannot erase human love

Sixty years, full of laughter and tears...

Le Quoc Han

INNOCENCE

Every day I vow to live innocently

between the tides of life. Capricious!

Born into the rapids upstream

small heart crying tears of childhood

Youth - the river erodes both banks

cross the abyss and dream

Like the white stork in folk songs

tomorrow fall into the pond. Can't help it!

Spread your wings in the blue sky

with many friends weave a poem

Hundred years of intact dreams

innocently swim between the clear and muddy banks.

Ngo Duc Tien

SCHOOL MEMORIES

I still often have a little personal pride.

Is the first class of students in the district school

Who can count the thousands of young mulberry leaves that feed silkworms to grow up?

To weave silk for a lifetime

Thinking about school, I miss school so much.

Love the late night lamp that shines through many generations

Love for the teacher's eyes is imprinted in many generations of children

Love the thin thatched roof with the sweet south wind

I remember the days when the country was in trouble.

Enemy bombs and bullets rained down on that nostalgic area.

We walked on the alluvial soil of the Tien and Hau rivers.

But the heart is as full as the Dinh River

I miss Mr. Bai, Mr. Bao, Mr. Anh...

Missing my friends Hue, Chau, Dang, Toi...

Over the past few decades, many new friends have been made.

Dear students of the district school

Thinking about school and sacred space

About eternity and what is vibrant

And memories like waves

Bringing loving sounds into life.

Nguyen Huu Quyen

MY TOWN

Lam River flows to Dung's heart*

The horse sleeps on the chimney in a daze**

Silver water. White silt

Our souls drift away

Pick up banyan leaves on the old school yard

Carry your dreams home

Listen to the cicadas

An axe blade sleeping on the ground

(Heard of prehistoric people)

Flip Use Up

Cut out to see the morning star

In the past, the stars told our ancestors to stop.

No more reeds on the beach

Another year of floods...

*Name of Thanh Chuong town, Nghe An province.

**The remaining chimney of the old sugar factory in Dung.

Royal Marble

BIRDS RETURN TO HOME

(Dedicated to students of class 1984-1987)

Like a flock of birds flying away

The eagle's wings soar across the ocean

A corner of the forest, the sound of a rooster crowing at noon

And where do storks wade along the river banks?

Working hard day and night, drifting upstream

Many aspirations through the years

Children go in search of light

Let today brighten people's faces

There are tears of joy falling

There is nostalgia and mischievous laughter

School years pass quickly in the eyes

The dust of time is engraved on your cheeks, my dear!

Like a flock of birds flying to the end of the sky

Looking back to my nest, I miss you day and night.

The sea is far and the sky is high and wide

Rain returns to the source, cool stream of homeland

Your footsteps leave their mark on the road

The calm lake reflects the blue sky at the bottom of the water.

The mountain is pensive day and night waiting to wake up

Whose laughter echoed in the school yard…

Cao Tuan Hai

TEACHER!

There is a profession without flying chalk dust

No red royal poinciana flowers outside the window

No lesson plans, busy forgetting sleep

No cicadas chirping excitedly during exam season

There is a profession without detailed mathematics

No literature podium teaching

Not romantic the sound of ship whistles greeting the harbor

There is no more beautiful crystal in the world

There is a profession that teaches people to be trustworthy.

Take wisdom, courage and compassion as a measure

Culture of our ancestors thousands of years ago

Making fun of everyone, worrying about my own problems

The arduous and faithful ferry trips

The teacher still diligently forgot his destination

Like waves hitting two shores of hardship

The child's side and the teacher's side are the other side.