Oh dear Liberation fighter
Under whose feet even grass grows tender...
Is it true that your heart each morning and evening
Seems seared by napalm scars,
When you see in your mind's eye
Raven locks spread on garbage?
Is it true that when Uncle Ho transfuses blood from Viet Nam's heart into you,
It gives your legs the strength of four thousand years of history
And your feet can trample on the Pentagon
And leave there the-mark of peace, Freedom and independence?
The (sky) blows down gusts of icy wind.
But cannot cool the warmth of thousands of footprints in the forest.
I wish I could be a grain of sand on the vernal road
And stick to your foot and go with you into action.
The poem appeared in the February 11 issue of South Viet Nam in Struggle, a weekly publication of the Front.