my father

An area filled with incense smoke
My father sat in the ancestral hall, deep in thought.
Farewell to years of war
Return to the village to work as a farmer.

Cherish every piece of jewelry
Backpack still contains hardships of the past
The wound seemed to have healed.
But the rain and sunshine change and it hurts again.

Several faded uniforms
Following father through the hardships of Truong Son
Parachute fabric for dowry
Winter for mother to lull her baby to sleep.

Around the messy fields
Still carrying the canteen with him
Sympathy for the sacrifice of comrades
So I believe in the spirituality of human life.

Went to the ends of the earth
Now quietly return to be a country person
Teach your children where their passion is
Don't forget your roots, keep your foundation. old ways