The Truong Son mountain range is undulating.

Mother watched

Years pass by...

Stories about father

Still telling

I thought it was a fairy tale

Stone wear time

Tears are saltier.

April comes and I remember the origin

Old steps

Mother waits with the lamp on

In the sound of falling leaves

In the words of the wind

Mother follows memory

See you in the skinny alley!

Truong Son side is filled with white fog

The grass on the border is green!

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/tho-son-tran-phia-truong-son-post320832.html