A word to the rain

Listen to the longing for the rain that has not yet come to melt away. It’s been a long time since the water of the Red River has waved red just like its name suggests. Cloudy sky. The sun awkwardly lit up the golden lights on the water waves. It seems that it is not by chance that Vietnamese people are very fond of red and yellow colors. Temples, temples, shrines, all take these two colors as the main theme. The popular festival of flags fanned through many historical variations of the same two colors. Folk proverbs do not hesitate to talk about the red and yellow color scheme as an aesthetic truth. ‘Beautiful, golden, delicious honey’. And the Vietnamese are proud of their “red-blooded, yellow-skinned” nation as a standard that urges unity of the ideal community.

Illustration (Source: Internet). It’s been raining for over a week. The streets are empty, but in fact, no one is absent. Only a few shops and cars were parked on the sidewalk. New and old raincoats in colorful colors. Vehicles are clean and shiny with original paint colors. The street was clean, not a single stain of dirt from the construction works smeared everywhere. It took a long time to see the familiar asphalt color again. Hanoians for a few years have gotten used to the early mornings of cars spraying water to wash the streets wandering around the street. There is not a single street that does not have a truck carrying soil and sand passing through at night. But there has never been a dedicated vehicle to clean up the scattered sand. Still a few environmental workers wearing reflective yellow stripes early in the morning hunched their backs with dredged shovels. And the sprinkler truck lazily washed the blood-red water down the drain without ever being clean enough. The white shirt of people walking on the street early in the morning always turns into a flower shirt before arriving at work. The rain fell, and the storm was sullen. There were times when it erupted violently and then it was quiet and peaceful. Children going to summer school ride motorbikes behind their parents wearing double raincoats and fidgeting with their heads in adult helmets. A rare moment when children are so close to heaven and earth. Every day, she wears a mask and sunglasses, just like a parent on the street. In front of them, at the end of the way to school is an air-conditioned room with strict discipline like throughout the school year. The bigger the city, the less room there is for them. Looking at the children wandering on the streets at that time, it was not difficult to guess what education they received. Not sure it’s a disadvantage as people think? The night rain hurriedly plucked all the yellow leaves from the crown of the mother-of-pearl tree. Leaving the bright blue dawn on the streets. The pots of willow trees on the balcony on the street suddenly bloomed like fine salt sprinkled lightly on the cool green shirt. Peonies, late lilies, lilies and lilies intermingled with yellow daisies and pastel roses poured down the street. An unexpected unexpected flower season. The faces of people, the faces of flowers are radiant in the clear sky. It’s almost time to go to work in the morning, but people are still held back by the sidewalk flowers. Many of them stop to buy flowers to bring to the office. That’s the way Hanoi people play with flowers. Even though the market pragmatism has crept into every house and alley, flowers still have a very important place around them. No matter where. Many office rooms are now more regular than at home. Wanted to say something to the rain but didn’t know what to say. Had to borrow the lyrics of a talented musician in the long rain country, “I pray the rain pours down on the earth so that the seeds will grow soft …”.