Please allow me to sing "a sad and mournful melody".

(Baonghean) - “Today, seeing him lying there, in his military uniform with medals and the blue insignia bearing the name: Major General Nguyen An Thuyen. His face looks like he's sleeping. From now on, I won't hear any more new songs by composer An Thuyen. In this moment of farewell, why does that line of his song resonate within me: 'The sad melody and the mournful melody / Why does it burn so intensely?' At this moment, today, I would like to sing for him that 'sad melody and mournful melody'...”

That was just one of countless emotions expressed and written during the farewell ceremony for the talented musician – a son of Nghe An province. And in the endless flow of time, a day was no longer like any other, not only for the musician's family, but also for many friends, comrades, students, people from Nghe An, and music-loving audiences.

Composer An Thuyên.

I met Meritorious Artist Bich Ngoc (from the Military Region IV Art Troupe) when she had just returned from Hanoi at 5 pm on July 9th. Her voice choked with emotion: “This morning I came to bid farewell to my teacher. A student – ​​a fellow countrywoman – someone who will be forever grateful to the composer, I couldn’t help but come to see him one last time.” Bich Ngoc recounted that it was rare to see such a large crowd at a funeral, filled with so much sorrow. Even after arriving at the Ministry of National Defense Funeral Home, she still couldn’t believe her teacher was gone. The entire crowd was silent and solemn; you could hear the sobs, the silent tears… And as she walked around the composer’s resting place, she whispered: “Teacher, surely you’re just sleeping, aren’t you?”

Memories suddenly flooded back, overwhelming her. It was her teacher, with his kind and virtuous face, who had praised the country girl participating in a performance training session with the Military Region IV Art Troupe more than 20 years ago. At that time, the composer, who was the Vice Principal of the Military Arts College, had "specially" allowed Bich Ngoc to become a student at the school. His song "Beloved Hue" was even recorded right in the school's cafeteria with Bich Ngoc's voice, quite by chance. This song later earned Bich Ngoc the Gold Medal in the women's singles category at the first "National Student Music and Dance Festival of Cultural and Artistic Schools." It was also her teacher—like a caring father—who advised Ngoc: "I forbid you from imitating the Northern accent; keep your Nghe An accent and sing in the Nghe An accent; that's your unique quality!" Bich Ngoc says that there is a deep and profound connection between her and An Thuyen's music. The boats, the riverbanks, the shores... are her childhood, her very being. And she chose An Thuyên's music to sing as if it were about her own feelings. "Without you, what would I be like?" she asks herself with profound gratitude.

Unable to travel to Hanoi to bid farewell to his friend – the talented musician he cherished – poet Tung Bach shared that he had his own way of saying goodbye. He sat in pensive silence, and... wrote. He thought he would write a farewell poem, like so many other poet friends had done, full of emotion. But then, he couldn't bring himself to write a single line. “I miss those old days so much. I remember An Thuyên when he was still in Nghe An and Ha Tinh. That man from Nghe An was surprisingly calm and composed. He was so talented yet so humble. Songs like 'I Choose This Path' and 'Listening to the Boatman's Song at Night, Remembering Uncle Ho' were the first songs An Thuyên sang for me and other artists from the province. Even from those songs, I was stunned by the emotion they evoked. It's been a long time since we last met, and even when we did, it was always very brief. But An Thuyên's eyes, his smile, his gentleness, sincerity, and generosity always made me feel warm. It's truly a pity to miss a person like An Thuyên, not only for his talent, but also for his kind heart.”

And it wasn't just relatives, friends, students, and artists; countless ordinary people, whether they had met the composer a couple of times or had only heard his music without ever meeting him, remembered him with immeasurable sadness. Ms. Le Thi My Hanh, from the Logistics Department of the Border Guard Command of the province, spent the entire afternoon of the composer's funeral writing these lines. She told me: "If I were to speak, I'm afraid I'd be choked up, so let me just write: 'I was fortunate to meet composer An Thuyen in May 2014 at a poetry exchange event of the Hai Phong Businessmen's Cultural Association. The composer was dressed very simply, a loose white shirt, black trousers, and black shoes, looking very comfortable yet elegant. In him, I saw a sense of closeness and friendliness. He had a kind, gentle, and warm gaze. Knowing that I was from Nghe An, a soldier, and also dabbled in writing, a guest at the businessmen's cultural exchange event, he treated me with great respect.'

Surprised to meet the renowned and talented composer, whose sweet songs are deeply ingrained in the hearts of music lovers, I and everyone else happily asked to take a photo with him, and he readily agreed. During that exchange, I was asked to recite poetry and sing. I was nervous. More nervous than ever before. I lacked confidence. Because he – composer An Thuyên – was sitting in the audience, smiling kindly, listening attentively… I gathered all my courage, took a deep breath, and sang. I sang with all my heart and soul… forgetting the audience, forgetting my fear and apprehension. When I left the audience, he affectionately shook my hand: “My hometown is both beautiful and sings very well!” I knew he was just encouraging me, but I was very happy and moved. Little did I know, that would be the first and only time I would have such a precious moment with the talented and virtuous composer from my hometown.

On the afternoon of July 3rd, upon hearing the news of his sudden passing, I was stunned, shocked, and couldn't believe it. On the afternoon of July 6th, poet Le Huy Mau visited his hometown and arranged to meet with a few of us: composer Phan Thanh Chuong, poet Tung Bach, Chu Quang Luan, and myself. Composer Phan Thanh Chuong, with a heavy heart, suggested, "Let's all take a few minutes to remember An Thuyen!" Without a word, we all immediately bowed our heads respectfully, solemnly, and silently... The meeting mainly revolved around reminiscing about stories of composer An Thuyen.

Today, July 9th, his family, the Ministry of National Defense, along with numerous artists, students, and thousands of admirers, gathered at the Ministry of National Defense Funeral Home to bid him farewell...

"I - a soldier - a son of Nghe An province - deeply cherish the character and talent of composer An Thuyen - my heart aches as I look towards that distant place, silently wishing him eternal rest..."

As for me, a daughter-in-law from Nghe An, I came to know this homeland thanks to the composer An Thuyen. Before I came to Nghe An, he painted for me: "The ferryman's whispered call, the bewildered crescent moon, the lush cornfields, the full ferry leaving the dock..." He depicted the Lam River, which never runs dry, and the deep and enduring affection of the people of Nghe An. I sang those lyrics in my youth, to feel the salty taste of the land and the spicy ginger, to cherish the image of the barefooted young man, bewildered by the crescent moon.

I know that on this July 9th, many people silently bid farewell to him in their thoughts, softly singing one of his songs, just as I am now. An Thuyên's music, naturally, anchors itself in people's souls like a cool stream flowing into the vast wilderness. From luxurious concert halls to the simple homes of countless villagers, from famous singers to the elderly, children, artists, and even farmers with muddy hands and feet... everyone sings those songs as if expressing their own feelings. The homeland of Nghe An in his songs moves those from Nghe An living far from home, but above all, it is a symbol of homeland in the hearts of all.

Someone once said that when language can no longer express everything, then music speaks. And perhaps An Thuyên's music touches people's hearts because it awakens things that have long been hidden, things that words or any other form of expression struggle to convey deeply. Like a deep well, the things that An Thuyên's music evokes—silence, mystery, profoundness, sadness, time—return to people, making them feel as if they have rediscovered themselves. They feel more alive, imbued with the feeling of "a day is like hundreds of years," as in his song, heavy with sadness and love.

And I know, An Thuyên is still here, he hasn't gone far, he's in the "melodies of sadness and longing" that everyone is singing from their hearts. Just like in her farewell to her father, the musician-singer Bông Mai believed: "We part ways today, but I know Dad will wait for me, welcome me, and love me again as he always has. I was worried that without any messages or signals, we wouldn't recognize each other! But now I know that as long as my heart and my mind always think of Dad, we will surely meet again..."

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