Upon this vast field of crops, the sunlight gently falls,  
Dreams scatter across the earth, touched by the farmer’s hands,  
Life blooms in raindrops, golden dawn awakens in the rice sheaves,  
In the soft caress of the breeze, the grains sway,  
The soil, deep with love, embraces them whole,  
In every particle, an unseen rhythm of time flows,  
A ceaseless call of life beckoning on.

The weary farmer gazes into the fog's abyss,  
In the corner of his eye, untold stories of the future linger,  
On the dry earth, he leaves a mark of hope,  
With each strike of his hand, the crops break, the cycle unfolds,  
Deep within the soil, the memory of time, the marks of a struggle to live.

Life floats across the fields of endless grain,  
On each golden spike, the tale of struggle is inscribed,  
Pride fills the boundary of this hopeful land,  
With the farmer’s sweat, the harvest blooms,  
In his toil, the prose of survival is written.

This vast field of crops is the fulfillment of his life,  
In each drop of sweat, golden hope stirs awake,  
With every step, the farmer builds a promise to endure,  
From his labor, a new world is born,  
And the field of love stands as the ultimate proof,  
The pinnacle of his life’s worth.