He has managed
To plough his field
And the corn in the
Eye of the storm
Has risen from the
Pressure of the winds
Cobs have formed
And tassels like
A Chinese beard are
Swinging in cool
Breeze in the field.
Weaver birds abound
And the farmer's efforts
Seem to avail only in the empty cobs
Monkeys too have a field day
But will the farmer fear them
And plant his corn
In his own house?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem