Under the vast and endless sky,
Where fields of green and golden lie,
The quiet farmers sow their dreams,
In furrows kissed by morning beams.

With calloused hands, they till the land,
Guided by a timeless hand,
Through seasons’ dance, they rise and fall,
Yet stand resilient, strong and tall.

In dawn’s soft light, they plant with care,
Each seed a promise, whispered prayer,
Their sweat and toil, a sacred rite,
To turn the day into the night.

When harvest moon ascends the sky,
Beneath its glow, the fruits they spy,
The gentle hands that feed the earth,
Rejoice in nature’s endless worth.