The Year After by Tri Tran

I, an eagle, gliding in the succulent air,
Seeking the golden flame in my homeland.

Each amber lily, born to welcome me home,
Each rose bud, yet to unfold, yearns to kiss my cheek;

I, an eagle, long to treasure the dry blood of the warriors.
Now, that the war is over, each innocent soul is buried,

Each melodious heartbeat can roar with sparkling joy.
I, an eagle, yearn to see Vietnam dance her first Tango.