January 4, 1970. I met Tan at night but could not say anything in the crowd of people. Dear Tan, why is love never perfect in the fire and smoke of this place? Is this right? Remember the day when we said good-bye and you held my hand saying only: “Please be careful at home, okay?” I looked into your eyes and already knew what you wanted to say. We said good-bye again… all the time while saying good-bye worrying and thinking about each other. Go dear Tan, lovely comrade who has led me along all the hard parts of this road. I hope that when you see me again I can say everything from the heart of the girl to whom you already have given your entire love and care to.
January 6, 1970. Work is so busy, which makes my head ache… or is it something else? What is it which makes me unhappy? I held some precious jade in my hand, but I dropped it: even though when I picked it up it was unbroken, it was still dull with scratches. How sad this is. Dear Thuy, please follow the advice of comrade M who you love: you must be determined, if you lack determination for even a moment it will cause many sorrows and results you can never foresee. Please prepare to gain the qualities of a Party member, okay? My life is a journal with all the clean white pages, and all the words written in it are beautiful like a song: please continue to write these words.
Please swear before the court of your heart that you will maintain completely all the precious aspects of a Party member with an education in Socialism, okay?
“Please keep the spirit of Communism, a spirit clear like glass and bright with the thousands of lights of a believing heart…” M asked me: “Am I Vu Khiem* when you are Hung Giang?” How can I answer at this time? The war has taken all my dreams of love: I don’t want and cannot think about that because the life around me will not allow it. So M, please go away, follow the calling of the battlefield, and I will remain here, also given to the war. Promise that on the day we meet again we can talk about love, my dear comrade.
January 7, 1970.
I stand here in the very windy forest and mountains
Rain covering all the trees of the woodland.
I hear the winter wind and the storm blowing here,
My heart feels suddenly very sad.
Oh, all the people that I love far away do you know
This afternoon what I think in the cold wind?
This afternoon…
Who is walking in the lines of trees
On the wide way which is the country’s heart?
Who walks in unity with the Party?
Who looks thinking of the South at the coconut shadow?
And the shadow that I love
Suddenly returns to the heart of Ha Noi
And all those nights at the assemblies by the
Ho Hoan Kiem River,*
Hand holding hand happy to welcome the coming spring.
This afternoon…
Along the peaks of the Truong Son Mountains*
Liberation troops build the road to the front.
Do you think anything my dears
When you look at that southern mountain chain?
The ocean waves are still deep with love
Still moving night and day waving and calling
Still waiting for you with shining medals
And a promise that when the country is peaceful and happy
We will hold your hand again and together
Welcome the spring in happiness.
This afternoon…
In a house in the familiar hamlet
Who thinks of anything but shining eyes?
Rain and sun in your youthful hair
Still cannot fade the most beautiful love in your heart.
Those long nights of duty
My heart was excited when I returned to the old road,
The same road we traveled
When we said good-by with family love.
Everyone knows that if we die
For tomorrow, for Country, for freedom;
Then in our hearts the dream will be complete
And also complete will be our deep love.
This afternoon…
In thousands of thoughts
Which sigh on the worried face
I saw already in the long night
The black eyes not yet asleep
Which worry for the people, and the comrades
Sad when bombs still fall.
This afternoon…
I fly back to be together,
I kiss the people I love and tears come from my eyes,
Tears fall filled with love.
The way I travel is so difficult:
Feet cross the rivers and mountains and keep on.
It doesn’t matter that it is hard,
Eyes look in the direction of tomorrow.
Who knows what will be?
Love has made us take a long view.
January 8, 1970. At the Party review I saw comrades’ mistakes which made me afraid. I won’t ever let the Branch have a meeting to criticize me like that.
This afternoon I sat in a chair in the operating room and suddenly thought of Lien. Here she had lived and died. Her grave is on the mountain top: though I haven’t visited there I think of her whenever I come into this room. Life is so short, but everyday must be a worthy one. Don’t let anyone talk about and be able to criticize your past.
January 9, 1970. I miss you. Who are you, a relative, a comrade, a young man I love or a stranger? What can I say now?
