Part 1 : Glory
Modern folk songs are my favorite style. Although based on traditional folk themes, rhythms and verses, the songs had to be brought up to date in several ways:
a) They are still based on the pentatonic scale but metaboles had to be used to modulate to different pentatones rather than stagnating in one scale;
b) The verses, while still basically in the six-eight form, are often modified so that the rhythm becomes enriched by the more varied prosodie.
My aim was to bring Modern Music to the countryside. Luck was on my side, for I had a whole people and a national struggle for independence to use as subjects for this new style, which made it easier for it to arouse the interest of the masses. I released a number of songs all of which echoed traditional folk songs. I called these folk songs of the Resistance to distinguish them from the folks songs which I wrote later.
The
first modern folk
song, which bore the spirit of the resistance, was NHỚ NGƯỜI
THƯƠNG BINH
(Thinking Of The Disabled Soldier). The song was widely circulated
in Việt Bắc and
was even translated into the Tày language by the mountain people:
Pài mà, pài
mà qua nứng nà khuê
THINKING OF THE DISABLED SOLDIER
(Vĩnh Yên 1947)
Evening is falling on the green fields
A young woman carries home the rice harvest
Her man has been away fighting
Since war came that autumn day
Since war came that autumn day
He has been away fighting at the frontier
Evening falls on the green fields
Bringing memories of a young man
She looks at the days floating by
And thinks of him so far away
The man who has gone away for his country
One evening the long road saw the return
Of the gallant young man who left years ago
Now he's back but he's lost an arm
Now he's back but he's lost an arm
His blood has stained the bodies of many ennemies
Since that autumn day
Back in the village do you remember him
Who braved death for others
And forgot his own self
Do you remember the disabled soldier
Do you remember the disabled soldier
I remember that evening when I went to the battlefield
And the day I was wounded
And the day I was wounded
Now I live out my life by my people
Evening falls bringing memories
A gift comes from far away
I sit here and think of tears shed
O my friend far away,
You have brought warmth to my heart!
The Wounded Soldier
Music and original text by Phạm Duy
English lyrics by Steve Addiss
One day one day on the afternoon
There's a girl in the land
With sheaves of rice in her hand
A heavy load for her arms
Her work, her work is the work of man
Where a man worked before
He left to fight in the war
A heavyload for her heart
The days and weeks pass by
The weeks and months pass by
And the harvest comes and goes
But when her man come, no one knows.
One day one day in the afternoon
He comes back and she sees
His sleeves hang loose in the breeze
He lost his arm in the war
His friends, his friends all honor the man
Now he's back from the war
She loves him more than before
Together they work the land
The days and weeks pass by
The weeks and months pass by
And the harvest comes and goes
But when will peace come, no one knows.
WORDS FROM THE DEPARTING SOLDIER
(Bắc Giang - 1947)
Stay home my darling, stay home
And tend for the mulberry garden and care for old mother
With my gun I have to leave
With my gun I have to leave
With my gun I have to leave today
In my heart I carry the image
Of our barren garden
The ennemy have made us paupers
The ennemy have made us paupers
If they kill me in battle
My gun stained with blood will be waiting
For your hand to carry on
Take it to the battlefield. Take it to the battlefield.
Avenge my death! Avenge my death.
Stay home my son, stay home
You must train your will and fend for yourself
So that I can go to battle with an easy mind
So that I can go to battle with an easy mind
To destroy the French invaders and bring back prosperity
They it was who made us paupers
They it was who made us paupers
If I die at the hand of the ennemy
My gun stained with blood will be waiting
For your hand to carry on
Take it to the battlefield. Take it to the battlefield.
Avenge my death Avenge my death.
Stay home my friend, stay home
On this autumn day I must go and avenge our people
I have no yearning
No longing in my heart as I leave
A man only thinks of his pledge to Freedom
The ennemy made us into paupers
If I die at the hand of the ennemy
My gun stained with blood will be waiting
For your hand to carry on
Take it to the battlefield. Take it to the battlefield.
Avenge my death. Avenge my death.
Then the French proposed the "Bảo Ðại solution", making Emperor
Bảo
Ðại the head of state. He was immediately called a puppet by the
Viet Minh.
We were encouraged to produce songs opposing the proposal.
Putting new wine
in old bottles, I wrote new verses to existing tunes:
RU CON
LULLABY
(Thái Nguyên-1947)
The night is late; under the setting moon
A mother lullabies her infant
À à ơi ! À à ơi !
So sweetly you
smile
Your sight brings flowers to my life
To the far away battlefield
your father has
gone
But he wants you to be happy back home
So sweetly
you smile
My love
for you gives me a heavy heart
A storm is blowing outside
Causing many
heartbreaks
Never will the French invaders care for our people
Not till
dumplings get bones (i.e. never)
Yet some people will twist their
tongues and
court for favours
Sell their country and forget their people...
Then came Operation "Making Vests for the Fighters", for which I
wrote:
THE SOLDIER'S WINTER
(Thái Nguyên-1947)
Winter is here
Let us send warm clothing to the soldiers
We who enjoy the warmth of home
Must send our love to them.
While you fight the ennemy far away
I will make this vest and send it to the front
Holding this vest my heart fills with love
Each step you take causes me a thousand pains
Why do I suffer so much?
Why is the night wind so cold?
All the young men have gone
To the drenched winds wept battlefield.
If you go to the front
Please take for him this garment and blanket
Winter has come
Let us send warm clothing to the soldiers
We who enjoy the warmth of home
Must send our love to the fighters.
O moon on top of the bamboo grove
As I sew this coat my heart fills with longings
I pray that when the cold season is over
The fighter will have avenged the nation
And will come back to me
One day victory will be ours
For now I am making these clothes to send to the front.
O soldier braving wind and mist
Please defend the country for me
And make it safe for eternity
Winter has come
Let us send warm clothing to the soldiers
We who enjoy the warmth of home
Must send our love to the fighters...
After singing the praise of the disabled soldier, I continued
to use
modern folk songs to draw images of contemporary Vietnamese
people: a soldier, an
old mother, a loving wife, an innocent child.
THINKING OF THE ABSENT ONE
(Thái Nguyên - 1947)
On hearing the song of soldiers marching far away
Who will not pity the old mother
In the night waiting for her son
He went away to serve his country
One day when drums rolled in the village
She looks towards the flag
And prays for her son
Wherever he is, to be happy.
Her heart fills with hatred for the colonialist
And with longings for the day of victory
When his strong figure will walk again under the bamboos
On hearing the song of marching soldiers far away
Who will not pity the loving wife
Whose husband has left for the distant front
She sews for her child while thinking of that day
When she saw him off beyond the hamlet
And the cattle were returning home
Since then she has longed and yearned
And waited for news of victory
Her heart is full with hatred for the colonialist
And with longings for the day of victory
When his strong figure will walk again under the bamboos
On hearing the song of marching soldiers far away
Who will not pity the young children
They play in the sun
And sing in the alley
But often under the lonely roof
They would stop playing and, holding mother's hand
Would ask: where is our father?
When will he come home and bring us some cakẻ
Then their hearts fill with hatred for the colonialist
And with longings for the day of victory
When his strong figure will walk again under the bamboos...
Having already written a psychological warfare song, NGỌN TRÀO QUAY SÚNG (The Tide Of Turning Guns), I now wrote a folk songon the same topic entitled NGƯỜI LÍNH BÊN TÊ (The Soldier On The Other Side). Who would suspect that the idea of this side and the other side, which I presented in 1947, would endure beyond 1954 until 1975. Even now, Vietnamese are still divided into this side and that. Half a century has passed since 1947, almost a lifetime, but when have the Vietnamese been without hatred? And I still can't see why the furrows should need the blood of our people...
THE SOLDIER ON THE OTHER SIDE
or
BÊN NI BÊN TÊ
OUR SIDE, THEIR SIDE
(Tuyên Quang-1947)
One evening on the front
As I sat holding my gun
I heard a bird laughing
And I thought of you
My friend,
You are a son of Vietnam
But you fight for the ennemy
Are you awake or dreaming?
Yours is the side of misery
Where Vietnamese enslaved
Bend their head in shame.
Ours is the side of freedom
Where old father
Has brought prosperity to all the people.
We go back to the old village
To see flowers bloom
On the corpses of our ennemies
And rejoice in the autumn wind.
The ennemy came to this village
And gave you that gun
To trick us into killing each other.
My brother! Turn that gun around
The blood of the Viet people
Is still needed for the furrows
Every minute, every second, I yearn
For a life without hatred
And I wait for you
TIẾNG HÁT TRÊN SÔNG LÔ
THE SONG ON THE LÔ RIVER
(Tuyên Quang - 1947)
On the Lô River, my boat again is moored
The storm has passed,
I can sail these waters
Do you remember the Lô River where the invaders came to plunder
I remember the Lô river which buried so many ennemies
Khoan
hỡi khoan hò
hò khoan
O young woman washing aprons on the bank
To
my boat
moored by the Lô river
Midnight brought the plaintive voice of
dead ennemies
Telling their story:
Khoan hỡi hò khoan
On that
day this
wide river
Rang with the sound of cannons
Of the Vietnamese
soldiers
Your water was colored with the blood
Of two thousand
French troops
O glorious Lô River
O glorious Lô River
O glorious Lô
River
On the Lô river the people again sing
The bandits have
gone,
we can come back and live life to the full
Yesterday storms raged
on the river
Today the water quietly flows again
Khoan hỡi khoan hò hò
khoan
O proud soldier holding your gun
On my boat moored
by Tuyên
Quang wharf
The midnight moon's golden light makes me think
of you
And I sing
Khoan hỡi hò khoan
On that day the wide river
Rang with the sound of cannons
Of the Vietnamese soldiers
Your water was
colored with the blood
Of two thousand French troops
O
glorious Lô River
O glorious Lô River
O glorious Lô River
The Lô's
waters
now echoes with the people's songs
The bandits have gone, we live a full life
Thatch roofs again rise by the clear streams
In the frontierland our hearts are like
the Lô's waters
Khoan hỡi khoan hò hò khoan
O guerrilla militiaman
practicing in the woods
On my boat moored by Ðoan Hùng wharf
The dawn brings the joyful songs of wild birds
Singing:
Khoan hỡi
hò khoan
On that day the wide river
Rang with the sound of cannons
Of the Vietnamese soldiers
Your water was colored with the blood
Of two thousand French troops
O glorious Lô River
O glorious Lô River
O glorious Lô River
Nửa đêm nghe tiếng chuông chùa Hàn Sơn...
. . . . . . . .
To a boat moored on Cô Tô wharf
Midnight brings the sound of bells from Hàn Sơn pagoda...
...which immediately create an impression on the listener. Furthermore, although celebrating the first victory, I concentrated on the simple life of the ordinary people rather than talking about great matters. Whereas I had used marches to sing of the glory of the army in the majestic scenery of Việt Bắc, now I sang about the simple man and the gentle evenings on the hill gardens, using a modern folk song:
EVENING ON THE HILL
(Lạng Sơn - 1947)
Evening! The evening's shadow has fallen on the potato patches
The cattle is coming home to the sound of rattles.
Evening! Men in indigo shirts carrying rice
Profile against the misty hill sides.
Evening! Evening comes so peaceful and calm
The sweet flagrance of rice drifts across the winding path
Evening! O evening!
Autumn has come on the ricefields and the hill gardens this evening
A tiller pauses in the breeze
The sweet scent of ripe rice fills the fields
Gunshots and sufferings seem far away
Here the farmer clears the trees and breaks the soil
So that tomorrow there is rice
To feed the fighters defending the country
Together we join our strengths
We color the blue mountains with our blood
And water the fields with our sweat
Evening! A young moon has risen
Bringing poetry and songs to this harvest day
Evening! The pole houses breathe a misty smoke
The young maiden have left the lovestruck streams
Evening! Standing in a city street one day
I long for an evening in the countryside
Evening! Evening! O evening!
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