Through the sea of golden wheat
Swaying in the breeze
In the plains of Punjab
Just before harvest time
We made our way
To the river’s bank
Swan in the cool water
And warned under the blazing sun
We were young
And care free
The sons of farmers
Enjoying the moment
In the middle the of British winter
Snow on the ground
Temperatures near freezing
And I’m old and grey
When I close my eyes
And I explore my memories
I can still see the golden wheat fields
Of my beloved Punjab.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some things in life hold great memories.