Husband-Waiting Rock Part 1 

The king decrees the army to march, drums resound.

Officials and soldiers set out on the journey.

The last group of horses and carriages

follow the path along the river.

Far from the battlefield,

officials and soldiers set out.

Flags accompany the echoing drums,

outside the village at the foot of the hill,

fluttering sadly as they fly.

Beyond the Sky Mountain Pass, who bids farewell as the wine feast ends.

Cheers and songs, then the marching troops depart beyond the horizon.

The men  cross countless mountains and hills.

The women waiting at home in loneliness.

By the  far northern land, Man Khê,  dust and wind swirl.

Near the Longing River, longing for those thousand of miles away.

Many men cannot escape their arduous fate. 

Many women will transform into stone statues, holding their children. 

Horses gallop far beyond, their neighs echoing through the sky.

Gongs and drums ring a hundred times,

unhindered across mountains and hills,

then resound far and wide. 

Distant from the frontier outpost,

gongs and drums ring a hundred times,

unhindered across mountains and hills,

then resound far and wide,

bearing witness to countless partings. 

They departed in joy, without promising the day of return.

Those oaths once etched in hearts, who has forgotten?

Gazing at the vast expanse of the blue sky,

those who wait yearn for their loved ones at  the frontier. 

Years of holding her child, a wife waits for her husband's return.

Many times, Time erases promises.

One roams freely in a distant mountain,

while another, longing for her husband, stands in endless waiting silence..

Husband-Waiting Rock Part 3 

In the southern land, amidst the hazy mountains,

who still stands waiting, holding her child,

like the ancient mountains still persisting now?

The evening path shrouded with sand flying wildly as horses gallop. 

The long roads; weather-beaten clothes flying strongly in the wind. 

A distant shadow gradually out of sight, the silhouette of a man, crossing old hills and mountains.

With a pack of food for the day’s ride,

and a hero's mighty sword.

Under the sunset, the horse hooves flying over the road.

Taking a warrior’s footstep into the wilderness, amid mountains and forests.

On one side, the debt of deep affection, on the other, the debt to the fatherland.

By the mournful hill, by the ancient forest, they accompany the shadow of the man,

The road back home is distant and rough.

Numerous hills and mountains, steep and rugged.

Trees and forests dense and tangled,

The Vạn Xuyên road, the ancient Lũy road,

The love for mountains and rivers remains tender.

The boat across thousand miles, the boat across the borders.

The boat across forest river with many schools of fish peacefully swimming.

The ancient citadel of Cổ Loa, the Temple of Ten Thousand Lifetimes. 

Months and years haven't erased their traces.

The sound of mountains and hills lingers in one’s heart for countless years,

The sound of the wind, like a drum in the quiet night.

From the shadow of trees by the roadside,

from the thatched roof within the village,

the source of history quietly lives on,

countless affetionate emotions reverberate in the heart.

Hills of orchids, hills of magnolias, scatter fragrant incense,

The forest stars compete with with the ebony forest,

guarding against the rays of the sun, they continue to accompany the man's shadow.

High roads, low roads, the man’s footsteps have been all over.

Gazing upon the worn old path,

winding around, only after a few sunsets does the village come into view.

Longing for hometown, the man hurries his footsteps. 

Footprints etched on weathered stones.

From the shadow of trees by the roadside,

from the thatched roof within the village,

the source of history quietly lives on,

countless affetionate emotions reverberate in the heart.