There are birds flying along long, sun-drenched roads,
There are hearts carrying the heroic and indomitable blood of ancient times.
Against calamities, to build the nation, to fight and to defend it,
Our youth are like wings of birds soaring into the sky.
Oh, my Homeland, how beautiful you are — green mountains, vast seas (ơ, ớ ơ ơ ờ ơ, ơ ớ ơ ờ).

We return here, to the hills,
We return here, to the forests and streams,
The villages grow more beautiful,
The villages grow newer,
The villages grow more joyful.

We command the rivers to join their banks with bridges,
We command the mountains to open paths through their heights,
We drive the darkness back into the past,
So that the villages, the hamlets, and the eyes of our beloved ones may shine.

There are birds flying along long, sun-drenched roads,
There are hearts carrying the heroic and indomitable blood of ancient times.
We move forward through the blossoming seasons, eternally fragrant,
Singing melodies that rise high into the sky.