These fields are fallow now
where we once sowed our seeds
and the trees bloomed in spring
with the grass below them green.
Should we let the summer's kiss
shrive the husks and the seeds
so our lives are as fallow now
as summer without the rain?
I am back, blossom and fruit
here to watch you grow again
where I was blown on the wind
alone and withering with no soil
The winter turns cold again,
now white with frozen calluses.
Our river still runs swift and strong
always waiting for the next harvest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem