the seeds i sow
by the corn fields shall grow
to the sunrise and set in their seasons,
because our souls rise to fall
our thoughts creep to crawl
our seeds to their roots shall grow,
every seed renders a soul
the life to live and sow
the fruits of exceptionality in their seasons,
in their soils of fertile land
or not by the palms of their hand
to set a trend,
to the fields of many miles ahead
to their end
in saddened or happiest end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem