The village's grain of rice, Has the taste of alluvium, From the Kinh Thầy River, Has the scent of lotus, In the full pond, Has mother's song, Sweet and bitter... The village's grain of rice, Has July storms, Has March rains, Droplets of sweat fall, On June noons, Water as if boiling, Killing all fish, Crabs crawl ashore, My mother goes to plant... The village's grain of rice, In the years of American bombs, Pouring on rooftops, In the years guns, Follow people far away, In the years bullet belts, Yellow as field rice, The harvest season's rice bowl, Fragrant with trench soil... The village's grain of rice, Has friends' efforts, Early mornings against drought, With the scoop's mouth open wide, Noons catching pests, Rice tall against the face, Afternoons carrying manure, Spreading it on the land The village's grain of rice, Sent to the front line, Sent far away, I am happy I sing, The village's golden grain...