Anybody would have a Native Country. "Native country" - two words seems beloved. As "Native place" of poem of Giang Nam Poetess:
" Since childhood, two times to school per day
Love native place through each page of books individually.
Who say: to tend buffalo is unhappy?
I daydreaming and hearing the song of the birds on the trees...."
My childhood hadn't ricefields, hadn't the days tend buffalo and hear the songbirds on the trees like the poem of Giang Nam. But I since I was a child, I have loved my native country so much. My love comes from what my dad told me about his childhood, comes from my Mum's lullabies, and comes from poems, texts, and pictures in textbooks of schooldays...
A hot-temper and strict disposition of my Dad seen to have been some vanish, replace is a jolly and unaffected pleasure whenever someone or kinsfolks come from his native place. That moments, I got opportunity to hear him and guests review beautiful memories of his childhood: to tend buffalo, hunt for crab and shellfish everyday after school time. to play truant with friends climb up the trees to pick fruits in neighbour's garden, and then my Dad told about his country during the days just liberated, the days he joined Vietnamese People's Army to fighting at the front of Cambodia's harsh battlefield.....
My Love of country comes from Mum's lullabies put me and afterward my young sisters to sleep, My Mum sings very well, I like best is Quan Ho Bac Ninh folk-songs sing by my Mum. I saw white stork's wings fly out from Mum's lullabies, saw fields under cultivation, the farmers carrying two loads of rice, ability to feel at mosphere of festivity of countryside at communal house in the village and chanties of girls and boys, they play the chanty with a passionate tune when treading water, mowing weed, harrowing, or following a buffalo treading on paddly...In Mum's songs, I ability to understand how's much the love of Country folk to Uncle Ho Chi Minh and Vietnamese Communist Party.....
My love of country comes from poems, texts and pictures of textbook during schooldays. Love so much ricefields in the afternoon with buffalo sleeping under the shade of the trees. Love so much the sound of cock-crow resound in the silent afternoon. And love so much paper-kites of graze oxen-kids flying on the fields.
My house in a big lane in the middle of animated city. More than 15 years ago, there are still vegetable gardens and thatched-house here, rainy season, in the silent night, still can heard cricket-sounds and amphibians-sounds harmony like a songs resound from vegetable gardens...There are still bamboo hedges, some people keep chickens. In the afternoon, lie down on the fresh foundation of my house, hear wind draught bamboo hedges to rustle, hear the sound of cock-crow resound in the silent space, to see the cocks scratch soil for food...Those sounds, those pictures go down in my subconscious let me never forget!
Cannot but accept undying truths in the song:
" There is only one Native Country everyone has his own
As there is only one Mother everyone has his own
Who don't miss his own Native country if come away
Will not come into being a Human"
To look for one's true self
