from here
where we stand
we shall see
fields of gold
rice grains ripe
from their stalks
heavy with
our thoughts
bending to the
call of the
brown soil
strong men and
women
arrive on the golden
fields of
our heritage
harvesting....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's harvesting time.Fields look golden. A charming write.Like it.