Few grains of harvest are blown away from my fingers

Few grains of harvest are blown away from my fingers

No more were there any new crops until next spring we plant

The farmers with sweat beaded bare arms and faces

As flexions of the muscles and pain show

When plowing, sowing and pulling the ground

The Mother Earth feeds not only nature’s sunlight and rain water

It feeds on human sweat and blood and love

Grateful farmers that the Mother Earth attributes good crop “harvest”

For the farmers revival of its enrichment