Em hỏi anh, quê hương là gì nhỉ?
Là con đường khúc khuỷu vết chân trâu
Là ao cần, ao muống nước thật sâu
Ngàn thửa ruộng lúa vừa xanh con gái!
Gà, vịt, ngỗng, ngan, chó, mèo, heo nái!
Ðàn bồ câu đậu trên mái nhà ai
Là gầu sòng với những chiếc gầu dai
Dăm thanh nữ tát nước vào ruộng mạ!
Nông phu đổ mồ hôi trong nắng Hạ!
Chịu mưa dầm, gió bấc lạnh mùa Ðông
Cày bừa xong ta lo cấy, lo trồng
Với sức người, gạo cơm từ sỏi đá!
Rồi ruộng đồng chỉ còn trơ xác rạ!
Lúa vào bồ, thóc đã quảy về sân
Ðêm trăng thanh giã gạo nhịp đều chân
Cạnh cái cối ù ù xay thóc mới!
Chiều, bên hiên có mẹ hiền đứng đợi
Trống tan trường, tôi rảo bước về mau
Gặp cha tôi bao sương nắng giãi dầu
Nuôi đàn con, cố công lo gầy dựng!
Ðây nếp nhà gỗ táu, lim rất vững
Cạnh hàng cau có bể lớn nước mưa
- Gà gáy rồi, bố con dậy hay chưa?
Hôm nay có thợ gặt, thợ vò lúa!
Quê hương là điệu hò, trai gái múa!
Rộn rã, tươi vui trong vũ điệu Xuân
Hình ảnh quê hương rõ nét thật gần
Trong đám lá xanh, nụ sen trắng muốt.
Quê hương là tiếng sáo diều réo rắt
Là khóm tre, khóm trúc mọc ven đình
Tà áo dài mầu nâu nhạt rất xinh
Thôn nữ, nón bài thơ hong nắng mới!
Thi sĩ tựa thành cầu bồn chồn đợi
Ngóng người yêu quên tuốt hết vần thơ
Nước sông trôi trong vắt khẽ lặng lờ
Ðám lục bình với chùm hoa trắng tím!
Chiều nhạt nắng khói xây thành tím rịm
Bên mâm cơm đoàn tụ cả gia đình
Mâm gỗ, đũa tre, chồng bát thật xinh
Tuy thanh đạm nhưng có hồn ấp ủ!
Chỉ có thế nhưng lòng tôi tự nhủ:
Chẳng nơi nào hơn nơi chốn quê hương
Như còn nghe tiếng võng mẹ :” Bé thương!
Ngủ ngoan nhé! À ơi! Ngoan nhé Bé!”
Bút Xuân TRẦN ÐÌNH NGỌC
MY NATIVE COUNTRY
Let me ask you a question:
“What is the native country?”
It’s simple. It’s the rough, small village roads deteriorated by the feet of dozens of water-buffaloes.
It’s also some deep ponds full of vegetables, “muong” and celery .
And it’s also thousands of rice-fields full of green rice plants.
There are chickens, ducks, swans, hogs, and a flock of pigeons that perches on the red tile roof of a house.
There are also country girls who are using some small baskets to bring water from the river to their rice-fields.
The farmers sweat when they work in summer.
However they shiver in the wind and cold rain in winter.
When the fields are ready, they plant rice and other grains.
With human effort, the food for tomorrow is from today’s hard work.
After the harvest, the paddy is in the stores; the fields are still full of stubble.
Now the people want to make rice from the new paddy. The moon in the sky seems to be rounder and brighter.
As usual, my mother is waiting for me in the verandah of our house, knowing that when the school drum sounds dismissal, I’ll be home very soon.
Even at my young age, I also realize that my father works very hard for my brothers, sisters and me, too. He strives to form us into good citizens. He’s expected it since we were very young.
Our nest is a beautiful house built with hard-wood and red tiles.
In front of our house, there are several areca palm trees standing by the small cistern of pure rain water
In the morning of the harvest time, my mother wakes us up, saying:” Wake up! Wake up! Today, I have a lot of cutters for our rice fields.”
The native country is also some songs to which the young men and women dance with when spring has came. It is also on the green leaves and the white lotus in some lakes.
It is still the sounds of the instrument carried on the kite. It’s also the bushes of green bambooes planted by the village community house.
There are country girls with beautiful, light-brown long dresses and hats shading them from the new spring sunshine.
The poet is standing by the rail of the bridge,
awaiting his sweetheart. He is so touched that he forgets all his poetic rhymes.
In the river, water is transparent and moving a little making some flowering duckweeds move, too.
In the late afternoon, grey smoke and purple clouds make a picture of a high citadel in the sky.
All members of the families are there to enjoy dinner together. Life is so happy!
Food, chopsticks and bowls are so simple but they seem to have a soul in them,
That’s all about my native country but I always tell myself,
“There is no place like my native country.”
Sometimes, I still hear my mother’s voice in my mind:
”My darling! Sleep well and be good!”
But Xuan TRAN DINH NGOC