Beneath the golden morning light,
They toil with hands that shape the land,
With hearts as strong as oak, they stand,
The silent guardians of the fields.

Through seasons harsh, through storms they fight,
Their spirits never bend nor break,
On fertile ground, their dreams they stake,
With every dawn, they rise anew.

From dawn till dusk, their stories weave,
With calloused hands and sunlit dreams,
They sow the seeds of hope unseen,
In every furrow, life they give.

A harmony with earth and sky,
In humble grace, they find their pride,
The farmers’ song, a timeless guide,
To nature’s pulse, they heed the call.