Society

Listen to the resonant flow of the source.

PV July 29, 2026 10:43

Listening to the stirrings within, listening to the changing seasons of the wind and leaves, contemplating small, simple things like the ripples on the water's surface, the vast expanse of white reeds, the colors of trees in the early morning... to make associations, to "touch" the great things of the country, of history, of the distant, hidden layers of history. This is also how poets from all regions are delving deep into the source, exploring and discovering to add their own unique brushstrokes to the diverse and colorful tapestry of their homeland.

Poet Bui Sy Hoa selected and introduced

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NGUYEN DINH TAM
Wet

Even if it's just a tiny grain of sand.
contributing to the transparent glass block
to one afternoon, glistening with moisture.
You read out your name.
Together with our beloved homeland

MA GIANG LAN

One morning at Ham Rong

The sea is very close from here.
Closer than expected
Many soldiers from the past have fallen.
Where are you wandering now?

The greenery is breathtaking.
Why are your souls so green?
Now you dreamers...
The bridge shimmers, its reflection shimmering on the river's surface.

Forty-five years later, this morning...
The fisherman casts his net.
The train sped in.
It seems like the summer days are filled with mesh.

NGO MINH OANH

White reeds of Binh Lieu

Binh Lieu, covered in white reeds, bathed in sunlight.
The border wind blew fiercely this afternoon.
I return to this place with a sense of longing.
Who knows how many days have passed since the bloodshed?
It seems even the wiping is speaking.
Tears welled up in the eyes as they gazed at the border horizon.
How many graves are there along the road?
So many brave lives sacrificed.
Binh Lieu, with its peaceful white reeds.
And I hear the spirit of the hero appearing in the wind.
Many people keep their promises.
Guarding the border region, enduring harsh winds and frost.
Straw provides warmth throughout the long night.
The soldier, scornful of danger, wiped away his tears.
The reeds whispered softly.
It seems that mops also think like humans.
The eternal border of our Fatherland
Even if it costs blood, I will not budge an inch.
White flowers, lush green leaves
The sturdy border wall stands for a thousand years.

VUONG CUONG

Default with Can Tho

He traveled thousands of kilometers.
just to be alone in Can Tho

A wisp of purple cloud drifted and gradually disappeared into the harbor.
Ninh Kieu
He couldn't possibly pull it out.
The streetlights were on when the sun had already risen.
Looking in the mirror, my face was pale.

He's like a repetitive sentence.
Like a winding river that has yet to find its way home.
with the sea
Can Tho is like a room that has just had all its oxygen sucked out.
He was left with nothing but his bare feet.

That afternoon, her wings were just folded.
The wind blew, and bees buzzed against the window frame.
The shimmering silhouette of a person
A procession of children passed by.

For a thousand nights, I get one night.
I exchanged thousands of kilometers for just one centimeter in Can Tho.
Change both space and time.
He took a square meter of room and a second like that.

He's associated with Can Tho by default...

TRAN HOANG THIEN KIM

Autumn

It was just a passing storm, rain falling on the trees.
trees with fallen leaves
Just a sweet dream night after night.
has tiny dragonfly wings
He lives far away from where the waves crash.
Can you see the rainbow bridging the mountains and rivers?

It's just that the water has flooded the pathway outside the magical door.
The fish came ashore to find a way to turn.
He nurtured small desires within me.
Waiting for the night rain to soak the dark shadows

On the other side, the land is lush and green.
The green grass and trees appear during the stormy season.
The fruit of the guava tree imbues the soul of the wandering soul.
The swaying of the head lulls one to sleep, then the swaying of the body into a restless sleep.

There are days in the world that are incredibly peaceful.
Nestled in the wilderness, listening to the babbling of a stream.
Listen to English whispers from fairy tales.
Watch the birds build their nests to welcome autumn.

Watering the air with memories that fill the dreamlike state.
In the flickering light, the grass was damp with dew.
Following the river as floodwaters inundate the streets.
Light a lamp in the darkness of emptiness.

PV