Joy is the fruit blossomed in the heart of the farmer

His smiles are meshed with the days toil and sweat

Patches of brown earth possess a part of his tired face

On his shoulders he carries a huge basket with some tools
And now it is harvest time…  

Now the fields are ripe, the mangoes are heavy with fruits

Birds sing from the tree tops, monkeys dance to their muse

Below the evergreen forest, the farmers find their way

Pathing thru thick mist and grass, old animal dung and dew
The morning was cool, once the path reached the stream side

The farmers stooped to have a handful taste of the waters

The taste is clayey, the scent like a patch of dust with water

The path lead the farmers into the deeper forests now 

The shrubs become scanty, the trees more numerous

And all about dew sail off tree leaves, bouncing into balls

Thriving bird colonies, Natures own secret fine hive

The bamboo forest stood close by, taunting the farmers as they went

Waterfalls let water drops fall and bounce off rocks

Once they arrived the plantation, the work began

And with it, went with countryside music-

And when they sang, they sang of places, far far away

Where the wheat fields are yellow, the cow milk tasteful

They whistle songs and hum when they were tired of songs

At last, the harvest became a pile waiting to go home