NL (1930 / Vietnam)

Any Spring For Mom?

Is there any Spring for Mom, my dear?
The sad past and memory would never clear:

Fleeing from the enemy that Black April's night,
Mom guided her poor children in a sorry plight
Crossing the ocean in a small fragile boat.
Alas! while at sea the pirates atrociously smote;
She committed suicide proud of being a Viet lady.
Such misfortune, now how could you see, baby?

For thirty years, Vietnamese have endured pain;
Thirty years already, they have suffered in bane
Living scattered every where on this earth.

This Spring, kindly take from me of my life's worth
A rose to the Mom of Boat People that old time.
In all sincerity we pray day and night in chime
For Mom's Soul to be at leisure in Ultimate Bliss.

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