In the deepest dark of night
A chilling mist came swirling down
To soak the trees and soak the grass
And roofs and streets of Hanoi town.

Huddled on the sidewalk there
With only newsprint for a bed
Two children shivered in the cold
And thought about the day ahead.

Hung was just a boy of five.
His sister Hang was nine or ten.
Together they'd walk hand in hand
Through Hanoi's teeming streets again.

Their parents dead, the pair condemned
To walk with that unceasing tread,
Fifteen, twenty miles a day,
In search of rice or soup or bread

From stoic unknown strangers
Who'd mutter as the kids go by,
"There but for the grace of  God,
In despair, go you or I."

Like swirling mist in deepest night
Hope is an elusive thing
Which favors neither lowest serf
Nor merchant, Lord or even King.

But Hung, despite unlikely odds,
Held firmly to his thread of hope.
It was that which drove him on,
That which enabled him to cope.

Child traffickers found them at last.
They kidnapped Hang, left Hung alone.
In bitter tears he wept her loss,
His family gone, his fate unknown.

It was hope that made him wait
Two long years for her to run,
Sad hope, at last, that drove him on
To Saigon when his wait was done.

When you read the hero's tale
The road is paved with many quests,
Paved with battles and with trials,
Paved as well with grueling tests.

To make his way to Saigon, Hung
Had to ride atop a train.
For two full days it snaked its way
Through Vietnam's diverse terrain.

While lying flat he held on tight,
Not letting vigilance retire.
To sit up but invited death
From tunnel or electric wire.

And like the heroes sung of old,
When Hung's test was finally passed,
The gods smiled down upon that boy
And gave him his reward at last.

A traveling stranger saw him there.
And found for him a family,
And sponsored him for thirteen years
Through school and university.

When he at last earned his degree
Hung’s hope paid off in the long run.
For in all the university
Little Hung ranked number one!

Dear reader, understand this well,
There was no future bathed in light,
No guarantee nor promise made,
Yet hope and effort changed Hung's plight.

So when you're down and feeling low
Like you have given your last bit,
Recall this tale of Pham Van Hung,
The little boy who wouldn't quit....