Bài ca kỷ niệm [Song of memories] is unique because there are additional lyrics to the usual verse-verse-refrain-verse sequence. The original recording by Chế Linh begins with this sequence. After the instrumental break, the singer would normally repeat the refrain and the last verse. Or, occasionally, a repetition of the same lyrics from top to bottom. In this case, Chế Linh repeats the first two verses just as they are sung the first time. One would expect him to repeat the refrain exactly the same as before. But no, he sings new lyrics. I suppose it’s technically a refrain because the melody is the same. But the lyrics are new and it doesn’t quite feel the same. Moreover, the recording ends with a verse also with brand new lyrics. Very few songs from this era–an example is Tám điệp khúc [Eight choruses]–were written like it.

I haven’t found any explanation on why Chế Linh went this unusual route. He wrote it under the name Tú Nhi, as he did many other songs, this time in collaboration with Bằng Giang. That said, my examination of the sequence below suggests that they wanted to emphasize how much the speaker, a soldier, had missed his beloved. This emphasis in turn reinforces the theme of “memories” in the title.

There is another effect by this emphasis on memories: the song isn’t about the bitter and devastating hurt caused by love lost like Cho vừa lòng em. (Click here for my thoughts on that tune.) It is more about lamenting the impossibility of marital union, and even showing a philosophical touch about the ideal of first love as foundation for the ideal of affectionate marriage.

The original Chế Linh recording opens with the organ which is joined by the electric guitar, bass, and percussion for a pulsating rumba rhythm. The opening verse is something of an in medias res, placing the speaker closer to the present than the long past.

Còn gì giờ đây em sao nhớ thương đầy vơi.
Mộng tình còn trong tim hay chết theo ngày tháng.
Còn mãi nhớ hôm nào, lời trao nhau ban đầu.
Ai nỡ quên tình nhau?

What is left, my dear, but memories and lingering love?
Is the dream of love still in the heart or has it died over time?
I’d always remember the day when we first gave each other words of love.
Who could have forgotten that love?

The remaining lyrics go back in time, starting with a philosophical rumination about first love and marriage based on personal affection rather than on tradition or societal expectations.

Đời còn gì vui hơn trong phút giây được yêu
Đời còn gì đau thương khi lắng nghe tình vỡ
Vì đã trót yêu rồi, thì xin ghi đôi lời
Dù xa cách phương trời.

Living is happiest in the moments one is loved,
Living is most painful when love is broken,
Having already loved, I now write a few words
Even though we are far apart.

The reference to distance is confirmed by the first refrain. The lovers had been apart: “I have gone because of the Vietnamese country.” We’d later learn that he was drafted into the military, an act of patriotism. The refrain also references the mutual expectation that he would be back one day and they would get married (đẹp tình sau: build our love).

Ôi! Bao năm đã cách biệt
Anh ra đi vì đất Việt
Thì dù xa xôi em nhớ rằng đừng tủi sầu
Làng thôn êm ấm lúc anh về đẹp tình nhau.

Oh, many years of being apart,
I went away because of the Vietnamese country,
Don’t be sad even though we are far apart,
I’d return to our warm village and we’d build our love.

The third verse is about love continued. It references a short visit home and seeing her on the last evening of that visit.

Vài lời gửi cho em anh viết nên bài ca
Kỷ niệm một đêm mưa, đêm cuối ba ngày phép
Ngồi thức suốt đêm dài, thầm ghi câu sum vầy
Lòng thương nhớ vơi đầy.

I wrote a song, sending it your way
To remember a rainy night, the last night of a three-day leave.
I stay awake all night, writing in silence lyrics of union,
My heart misses and loves you completely.

So far, the song is about happy memories and intensely missing one’s love. The ambiguity of the opening verse notwithstanding, the refrain and third verse tell listeners that it is a positive experience. Listeners assume, too, that it is in the present.

Following the instrumental break, Chế Linh’s repetition of the first two verses tricks us into thinking the same. Then, boom, he begins singing new lyrics, which bring us to the real present. It is essentially a lamentation of love broken up. But how? By whom? What happened? It doesn’t say.

Ôi! Duyên ta đành lỡ rồi
Thôi tâm tư cạn hết lời.
Mộng lòng ta mang thêm nỗi niềm sầu suốt đời
Đường khuya thôi đếm bước âm thầm một mình tôi.

Alas, our fate is not meant to be,
No inner thoughts are left.
The dream of my heart now carries a sorrow for the rest of life,
I will be walking alone on the street deep in the night.

The refrain is sadness while the last verse is bittersweet. It may not be intense as the bitterness in the final verse of Cho vừa lòng em. But as indicated by the last line, the heartbrokenness is complete.

Giờ còn bài ca yêu ai viết trao ngày xưa
Bỏ lại mình tôi nay thương nhớ theo ngày tháng.
Người yêu tôi đâu rồi? Người tôi yêu đâu rồi?
Tình tôi đã chết rồi.

Now is left the love song written and given to her back then,
Leaving me to think about the memories over time.
Where is the woman who loved me? Where is the woman whom I loved?
The love I have has died.

While Chế Linh’s recording in South Vietnam is closely linked to this song, Phương Dung recorded a much-less known version in 1967. It’s shorter in time because post-instrumental break, she opts to sing only the very last verse.

The vast majority of recordings, however, follow the original Chế Linh’s version in sequence. Duets have been especially popular. Even Chế Linh had recorded one or two duets in the post-1975 diaspora, although they didn’t strike me to be anywhere as good as his original record. Here are three duets, all from 2019.

I’ll start with my favorite video, Tố My and Đào Phi Dương, which takes place in a studio and prominently feature a rare saxophone. It is further distinct from other duets by having both vocalists sing together a couple of lines, including the last one as if they were divorcing each other, Tình ta đã chết rồi: Our love has died.

If listening to the audio without watching the visuals, one could be forgiven for mistaking the voice of Tố My for Như Quỳnh. I wonder indeed if the younger singer was consciously taking after the older singer. Như Quỳnh herself recorded a duet with Trường Vũ.

Another is by Phương Anh and Thiên Quang.

To go back to Chế Linh, he put his soul into this song five or six decades ago, and it’s probably still the best recording this day. In my opinion, the first album of his, released in 1972 and including this song and Cho vừa lòng em, is among the masterpieces of Vietnamese bolero. It’s worth listening in entirety.

Chế Linh before 1975: