These Angels And Angel Will Always Stand By Farmers. Poem by saifon treenawong

Moaning sound of the engine may call her back.
Light up the sky above.
Down to earth and mud puddle.
Tears pour the water is flowing along the water irrigation canal.
Slender white wings. Brown , gray, and black
Poribahy move to the rhythm of machinery.
Moving in a circle.
Open space and tranquility to those angels, an angel comes down.
Ko Sang surrounding grass and weeds of rice.
Into small patches, brown, green switch down any other.
End to free and open
Water in the rice field. Circulate mud color.
One night over
Golden Dawn withdrawal of the sky.
Drainage sparkling gold with rice field, which has not been sown crop.
And the angel and the angels come down.
Tread plate feet in shallow water over the blanket covering rice field.
Like the noble Buddhist walking meditation.
Onusei growth.
Observation of self-motion and everything.
Eye view and pan to fry the little fish.
Seongkhar to the New England existence.
Not for them, and she would go.
Into the secrets of heaven and shrubs.
Before appearing again and elegance when the harvest season.
When the machine was moaning cry.
Sounds like a Eporiiu them and you get back.
Enib prance slowly in white dress gray, brown and black.
The trees are like a row of these pilgrims.
And the enlightened Buddha appearing in the midst of grief.
To point the way for Oeuei people away from the burning fire of suffering.
Trudge walk with own farmers.
With trudge walk and cry among the peasants.