Street corners of poets

(Baonghean) - Perhaps it's no coincidence that autumn is called the season of love, the season of longing, the season of nostalgia. Autumn arrives bringing a cool breeze that blows over everything, not stifling, not freezing, just cool enough to blend and linger with the fragrance of milk flower blossoms. In Vinh, the gentle autumn air makes it easy to drift into a world of memories, immersing oneself in a pensive, tranquil space, and suddenly feeling lighthearted and carefree…

In the hustle and bustle of work, there were times I thought that leisurely strolls through the streets were a luxury. Yet, on a non-weekend afternoon like today, I couldn't resist the charm of the autumnal streets of Vinh City in Nghe An province. You ask what's so special about the streets? Actually, there's nothing much to it except the familiar things and people that have always been there. The only difference is that autumn brings a gentle, poetic, and bustling atmosphere in a different way. "I've walked this road many times, and this time it feels strangely unfamiliar." Those words from a short story by writer Thanh Tinh suddenly came to mind. Oh, that's exactly the feeling, the idea. Familiar yet strange, familiar yet strange – that's why the streets are so captivating. I remember that writer Thanh Tinh also had very realistic and emotionally rich descriptions of autumn, beginning with simple words: "Every year, at the end of autumn, when the leaves fall abundantly on the streets and silvery clouds drift across the sky, my heart is filled with the tender memories of the first day of school…". It turns out that Thanh Tinh's autumn memory was the first day of school. People experience many different emotions in life, but perhaps Thanh Tinh's feelings about autumn touched the memories of everyone, and perhaps that's why I remember every word from that book so vividly, even though more than a decade has passed…

I wandered through the streets, suddenly realizing I was on Nguyen Du Street. The road I was walking on wasn't the same road that used to lead me to school. I was born in a poor village, so the school I knew from my childhood was a thatched hut hidden behind a hill. When I first went to school, my naive seven-year-old mind wasn't yet mature enough to subtly perceive the changes in nature like the writer Thanh Tinh. At that time, I was simply proud and happy to feel a little older, a little more composed. Children in the countryside like us didn't cry, fear, or cling to their mothers' clothes before entering the classroom; we even walked to school together. Still feeling bewildered and unfamiliar, but because the village school was where we children often gathered to play hopscotch and marbles every afternoon, the only difference on that first day of school was that each of us carried a bag of books and notebooks. Back when I was in first grade, we didn't have fancy school bags like we do now. My parents bought us bags made of colorful fishing line. Children used those bags to go to school, while mothers and grandmothers used them to go to the market...

Hoai Thanh Street, Trung Do Ward (Vinh City).

Walking along the streets, feeling the breath of autumn weaving through the trees and leaves, I suddenly noticed something quite interesting: many small alleys leading to Nguyen Du Street are named after great writers and poets. Coming from the city center towards Ben Thuy Bridge, the first alley I encountered was named after the writer, poet, and literary critic Hoai Thanh, followed by Ngo Tat To Street, and then Han Mac Tu Street. Surprisingly, these alleys are clustered together along the street named after the nation's great poet, creating a poetic "poets' neighborhood." There are many shops and services, but I still feel the peaceful, gentle, and romantic atmosphere of these street corners. Could this be the intention of the urban planners when naming the streets in the city center? Or are these streets inherently contemplative? Whatever the reason, I feel joyful at having just discovered something wonderful in the city I love.

Street names are merely names to distinguish different paths, but for each person, those names evoke a multitude of associations. Walking under the green canopy of Hoai Thanh Street, Ngo Tat To Street, and then Han Mac Tu Street, the moment I heard my teacher recite poetry when I was still a student vividly comes to mind. My literature teacher back then was often remembered by his students for his distinctive features: his long, white hair, his worn brown leather briefcase, and his "magical" ruler. We students often joked that these were his "identifying characteristics." Although he was a literature teacher, he always carried a wooden ruler under his arm, and we never saw him use it in class. But his lectures were wonderful, so captivating. Each literature lesson was a time when he immersed his students in the dreamy world of poetry. The teacher would recite verses from the Tale of Kieu, painting poetic images in our imaginations, inspiring us and instilling in us the emotions needed to appreciate literature. I still remember his lecture on the poetry of Han Mac Tu: “Han Mac Tu’s poetry is wild, melancholic, and gloomy, yet it is the most sensitive lifeblood of anyone. Han Mac Tu’s poetry is not meant for many readers, nor is it read by many. So, after my promptings, you should spend some time alone reflecting. It’s wonderful!”… His literature lectures were always open-ended like that. But we students loved it, curious and fascinated by the mysteries. Five or six years have passed, and we are now scattered in different directions. Occasionally, when we have the chance to visit our old teacher, he often smiles and praises us for growing up, but he, with his white hair and calm face, remains the same as before…

The Vietnam-Laos Kindergarten on Nguyen Du Street (Vinh City).

There were quite a few bookstores on the street I was walking down. I spotted a girl, about 10 years old, admiring the cover of a book outside a shop. I approached her and asked, "What school do you go to?" She smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling as she replied, "I finished 5th grade, and tomorrow I'm going to Trung Do Secondary School, ma'am. Tomorrow is the first day of school, so my mom just bought me new textbooks. They smell so nice, don't they?" The innocent words of the little girl made me smile. There was a time when I was also excited and happy to hold a new book in my hands like that, flipping through the pages with my friends, discovering the new and interesting things we were about to learn. Those childhood memories flowed peacefully with those back-to-school seasons.

Lost in thought, I was startled by the sound of honking cars behind me. It was rush hour, and the streets were getting increasingly crowded, with many people jostling to enter the gates of the Vietnam-Laos Kindergarten. The children rushed out to hug their parents with joy. The hugs, the kisses, the affectionate words… I suddenly felt a strange lightness and peace in my heart. Happiness is that simple. The school and family – the warm homes that nurture the souls of children. Autumn, the season of back-to-school, the season of love…

Phuong Thao