Oh, please sleep. Sleep, my sweet child.
Mother’s own child, with your skin of gold.
I’m soothing you to sleep, soothing your bullet wound dyed crimson.
For twenty years, a group of children became soldiers.
They left, but never returned, so did my golden-skinned child.
Sleep, my child.
You can see the rest of the poem and a video including the singer Khanh Ly discussing the Vietnam war in which she says
“People can easily forget the feeling of happiness. However, when it comes to the feeling of sorrow and sadness, once it becomes a wound, even if it heals, it will leave a scar on the skin and in the hearts of the Vietnamese people.”
on the Eversky website, translation by Gigi http://www.eversky.org/?tag=trinh-cong-son