Picket fences, with white and pink patches
Of cold flowers, that bring us wonders
Corns were grown, by men in jeans
To bring buckets of milk, for their offspring
To share and to sell, and to make a living
For their poor family, To have a living
And to survive, after many treacherous month
Under the blazing sun, when a blessing has just begun
The rain had brought in joy, no longer have they lived in fear
Because of all the sadness, they shared in tears
When nature were against them, after all these years
And they once said
Who could bear?
To live in sorrow
and who would share?
A life they borrow?
And who would keep?
Before we go into deep
and who would lead?
This life of ours
That has been keeping us discreet?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem