Let me make waves under the ship to send him off
As the shore gradually retreats, the villages disappear
On all four sides, there is not a single row of bamboo.
The waves crashing under the ship’s hull are not waves homeland!
The sky from here is no longer the color of the country
Being away from the country, the more you understand the pain of the country
We all sleep in narrow beds
My dreams crush my life
Happiness is contained in a beautiful dress
A roof The peace casts a shadow over the soul.
Never dream Unable to withstand a thick night
I let the rain pour and the wind blow
My heart became a puppet
Let life pull the strings
Around Hoan Kiem Lake, no one talks about King Le
My heart has become mossy about old stories
I wonder why all the pictures leader’s heart
Find a path for the people to follow.
I don’t understand why. People are looking for the image of Water
Not the image of a stone poem carved into a person
A familiar corner of half-life’s homeland
Or an invisible being in the distant mist…
Country image is either still there or gone
The golden color of the past, the red of the future
The stance of the entire nation
A glorious way for twenty-five million people.
Do you remember, oh cold wind of Paris?
A pink brick of Uncle Ho against an entire season of frost
And the fog of London, do you remember
Little drops of human sweat in the middle of the night?
The life of a seafarer drifting on the waves
People ask around for the flags of America and Africa
Lands of freedom, heavens of slavery
Roads of revolution looking for it.
At night I dream of water and in the day I see pictures of water
The grass and trees in the dream are green and blue like the homeland
Eating a delicious bite makes you feel bitter for the Fatherland
It’s not reassuring to look at a branch of flowers.
How will our people live tomorrow?
Where does the Red River flow? And history?
When will Truong Son strip wake up
God Phu Dong’s arm will reach the clouds?
What will happen to the flag? What will the singing be like?
What will the smile be like?
Oh independence!
How blue is the blue sky of the Fatherland
When freedom comes shining overhead.< /p>
Behold the Russian sun blazing in the East
The bitter tree has a season of sweet fruits
Bitter people have shared their share of happiness
Golden stars fly with sickles and hammers of farmers.
Thesis to Uncle Ho. And he cried
Uncle Ho’s tears fell on the word Lenin.
The four walls were silent, listening to Uncle Ho turn the pages of a folded book
Thinking outside the country waiting for news.
“Here is food and clothes! Happiness is here!”
The image of the Party is embedded in the image of the Country
The first moment of crying is the moment of Uncle Ho’s laughter.
You see:
Our people carry a bowl of rice with sweat and tears
The fields follow the buffalo back to the plowman
The tin mine coal mine, forest, gold, silver sea…
There are no more people left dead on the railway tracks.
The enemy has been chased away. The blue sky turns into singing
Electricity follows the moon into the worker’s bedroom
The rustics have become intellectuals
Working darkness has now turned into heroes.
Vietnam for a thousand years Dinh Ly Tran Le
The Vietnamese people’s country in the cool stream
br>The thousand-year-old pink thatch roof changes the color of the tiles
Ordinary lives are also shaded by flowers.
Oh! The way to Lenin is the way to the Fatherland
The snow in Moscow that morning was a hundred times colder
In the white snow it seemed like many tears were trapped
Lenin is gone! But Uncle did not stop.
Lenin’s Theses according to People return to their hometown in Vietnam
The border is still far away. But Uncle saw it was coming
Behold Uncle’s shadow kissing the ground
Listen in pink to the shape of the embryonic country.
