Tall palm trees swaying to the summer breeze
Do ye hear the wailing of the Zamindar's dog?
Peasants watering the fields, their struggles to cease
The scent of the wet soil and the morning fog.

Laughing alongside the silent river those women
Sparkly doe-shaped eyes, balancing a *** on their heads
To a confident rhythm their bare hips sway, raw beauty doesn't hide
Bending over to fetch water under the scorching sun overhead.

Frowning at the tropical summer fate
Young men walking behind the gloomy cattle
One haughty whip whack on the animal's back
They move on through the peaceful village rattle.

People witness the first rays of the sun
They continue to work even after the days choke
Dancing to the tunes of sheer simplicity
Live the wise and healthy village folk.