An old person within a park,
An insane person within a city,
A person lying down without breathing,
A person sitting hearing bombs explode.

A person sitting for twenty years,
Watching a flare illuminating at night.
A group of children desensitized to sights of war.
Our people lie down with wounds within them.

Our motherland rests for twenty years,
With its fragile flesh and bones,
Waiting for the land to be blessed.
A golden pigment on our soft skins.
We must cherish the color of our country.

You can read the rest of the poem, translated by Gigi, on the Eversky website http://www.eversky.org/?tag=trinh-cong-son and also listen to the original song.