Theo đàn bướm bên sông
Quên vườn rau luống cải
Mẹ thơ thẩn trên đồng<!-- Read more -->
Mẹ đau con chẳng biết
Mẹ ốm con không hay
Cuộc vui tàn, thấm mệt
Mẹ đã thành mây bay
Cả đời Mẹ gian truân
Luôn hôm sớm tảo tần
Đông qua rồi Hạ tới
Chẳng bắt kịp mùa Xuân
Nén hương buồn con thắp
Khói bay vào cô liêu
Nửa đời con mới hiểu
Lòng Mẹ già chắt chiu
Mẹ, mùa Xuân vẫn đợi
Mà mẹ giờ nơi đâu
Liễu buồn, chim biếng hót
Mưa Xuân rớt giọt sầu
Mẹ mất bảy năm rồi
Con thành trẻ mồ côi
Biết bao giờ nghe lại
Tiếng hát ngày trong nôi.
Vũ Đình Trường
9/2003
Quên vườn rau luống cải
Mẹ thơ thẩn trên đồng<!-- Read more -->
Mẹ đau con chẳng biết
Mẹ ốm con không hay
Cuộc vui tàn, thấm mệt
Mẹ đã thành mây bay
Cả đời Mẹ gian truân
Luôn hôm sớm tảo tần
Đông qua rồi Hạ tới
Chẳng bắt kịp mùa Xuân
Nén hương buồn con thắp
Khói bay vào cô liêu
Nửa đời con mới hiểu
Lòng Mẹ già chắt chiu
Mẹ, mùa Xuân vẫn đợi
Mà mẹ giờ nơi đâu
Liễu buồn, chim biếng hót
Mưa Xuân rớt giọt sầu
Mẹ mất bảy năm rồi
Con thành trẻ mồ côi
Biết bao giờ nghe lại
Tiếng hát ngày trong nôi.
Vũ Đình Trường
9/2003
Spring was still awaiting
In time past, I was infatuated
With pursuit of butterflies along the river
I forgot mustard greens beds in my kitchen garden
Mom was mazing in fields
Mom fell sick but I didn't know
Mom was ill but I hadn't kept informed
The spree was over, exhausting
Mom had already become flying clouds
Mom's whole existence was always perilous and
ft thri y from every early morning to late evening
Winter passed, then Summer came
Never caught up with Spring
A grief-stricken josstick I incensed
Its smoke emanated into solitude
I had just understood, then, in my half-life
Old Mom's heart in eagerness
Mom, Spring was still awaiting
But where are you now, Mom?
Weeping willows grieved,
birds became lazy over twittering
Spring rain poured down to its sorrowful drops
Mom passed away seven years ago
I became a motherless guy
I didn't know when I can hear again
Lullaby words during my cradle days...
With pursuit of butterflies along the river
I forgot mustard greens beds in my kitchen garden
Mom was mazing in fields
Mom fell sick but I didn't know
Mom was ill but I hadn't kept informed
The spree was over, exhausting
Mom had already become flying clouds
Mom's whole existence was always perilous and
Winter passed, then Summer came
Never caught up with Spring
A grief-stricken josstick I incensed
Its smoke emanated into solitude
I had just understood, then, in my half-life
Old Mom's heart in eagerness
Mom, Spring was still awaiting
But where are you now, Mom?
Weeping willows grieved,
birds became lazy over twittering
Spring rain poured down to its sorrowful drops
Mom passed away seven years ago
I became a motherless guy
I didn't know when I can hear again
Lullaby words during my cradle days...
Nguyen Huu Ly
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