Six in the morning at the market she'd lay out the greensCounting coins into a tin, a thousand dong between the seamsShe gave the better half of every plate to meCalled it not hungry so that I could eatOne winter she wore her coat so thin you saw the weaveAnd bought me a school jacket that I still won't grieveHer handsCông cha như núi, nghĩa mẹ như nguồnA father like a mountain, a mother like the spring that poursHer hands built a roof I never saw her underThe thunder stayed outside because she stood betweenI found the tin years later in a drawer behind the riceStill rolled with bills she saved but never spent on her own lifeShe paid in years for what I call my lifeCounted every coin so I would never have to countHeld the whole world steady from a small and tired amountNow my hands are bigger and the table's finally fullAnd I bought her the warm coat, but she gave it to the schoolOf the years she spent so quiet, of the love she never saidI'll spend the rest of mine just making sure she's fedHer handsCông cha như núi, nghĩa mẹ như nguồnA father like a mountain, a mother like the spring that poursHer hands
