Persimmons with green branches are smiling.
Welcome the coming maturity with a smile.
Birds in the field are singing the joy of life happily.
The cornfield is green.
Like soldiers in ancient battlefields.
Purple-black eggplant hangs on the twig fork.
Quietly waiting for the master to take it off.
Peppers are covered with branches.
Floating in the wind with youthful passion.
The century-old willow tree monitors the harvest this season.
Night is coming.
The coolness of July is fading away little by little.
The lights of the city gradually lit up.
I am waiting in the field to water the corn field.
I suddenly miss the old days.
A little nostalgic, a little sad
Some roads are scrapped when walking.
Those who can't go back will become eternal memories.
If I go back in time,
But this heart is really tired and can't go back.
And those feelings were lost in the years.
Even sometimes all the stories can't remember a plot.
Only vaguely remember a person's name.
Only oneself, what life needs is forgetting.
The night has really come, but I have to stay in the dark.
Just to water the corn fields.
Maybe I'll go back to land. Is that possible?
I'm a farmer anyway.