Far away on a river

I was startled when my mind suddenly became restless and confused. I thought that the struggle for a living in a foreign land would make my memories of my village fade away after so many days away, but then, in the vast blue water, in the long miles of colorful flowers and wild grass, my heart was filled with regret...

I silently watched the river flowing endlessly in the slanting afternoon sun. This section of the river is a tributary of the Cai River, slowly passing through the town, reflecting the old houses and thoughtful streets before converging with the Ve River, exiting the Lo Gate to return to the vast ocean. Although it is only a small branch in the journey of many painful encounters and separations of the mother river, this section of the river has carried with it many sad and happy worldly stories.

The boat turned upstream, I felt the river still flowing slowly despite the ups and downs of the world. The traces of the past are still here, on both sides of the river there is still the mossy Ong Pagoda, the gloomy Ba Palace in the red sunset. Old books also recorded that the native Vietnamese and the Chinese immigrants in Thu Xa lived together on the banks of the Vuc Hong River for many generations, not only building a bustling trading port, forming many unique crafts such as weaving sedge mats, making mirror candy, rock sugar, incense... but also creating a harmonious, liberal cultural area imbued with the character of the sea.

Illustration: Tra My

Rivers, for generations, have brought people a fresh space, evoking hope and many pure dreams, but sometimes they themselves make people afraid and insecure. For me, memories of rivers have accompanied me through the years because of their sacredness and beliefs. I am still haunted by the terrible floods. In just one night, the water rose, submerging everything. The low-lying houses were flooded to the roof. Everyone had to carry and carry each other to escape. The cries for help mixed with the raging wind and rain. I helplessly watched the swirling water sweep away all my dreams and plans. When the water receded, the river left a layer of mud covering the fields and gardens.

The Vuc Hong River is only a short tributary but it has carried and kept in its heart many legends about a countryside, many moods of people born and raised there, so that when I go far away, I still feel nostalgic and attached. I silently looked at the other side of the island, seeing the endless green of bamboo and crops surrounding it like a giant bow. Only separated by a creek where the river turned and twisted during the flood of the past, connected to the bustling streets by a small road, with reeds on both sides, the island still retains its original state of a quiet soul from its birth. I have been there, met the residents living peacefully under the roofs of their houses. They cultivate crops on the alluvial plains, they reclaim each piece of land from the encroaching reed slopes. Through the long years, through the war, through many changes, the islanders are still steadfast, loving and attached to life amidst the vast waters.

All rivers flow into the ocean, and so does the river in my village. Like many other rivers, it also carries a sacred mission and preserves beautiful memories of people's lives. The river has long been an indispensable part of human life.

Wanting to stay awake with the river to wait for the moon to rise, I listen to the ancient echoes of the call and the sound of the paddle chasing fish. Thousands of white reeds swaying. The island hides in the deep darkness. All of it sinks into my mind, the things that are attached and hard to let go. Walking silently in my memories, looking at the gentle water, each wave gently lapping at the shore, I realize that the Vuc Hong River always carries the love of the country and always longs to reach out to the ocean.

Source: https://baodaklak.vn/van-hoa-du-lich-van-hoc-nghe-thuat/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/202504/voi-voi-mot-khuc-song-4320255/