A poem of blessing to laborers

Song of Summer-Song of Labor

June has come, and the east wind is hot.

Dry and hot wind blows on the face.

The smell of mature wheat drifted with the wind.

This early summer wheat field

Like a golden ocean.

Are swaying layers of golden waves.

Spread far away

Wheat soldiers lined up neatly, dressed in gold.

They wear crowns and have high morale.

They expect their parents-

Industrious farmers

Let's review it and praise it.

The longer they wait.

Happiness is becoming more and more unstoppable.

When the wind blows

That rustling sound

It is they who are singing.

Harvest, harvest

There are busy scenes everywhere.

Harvesters rumble here.

The hair dryer is whistling over there.

It's already dry here.

It's still on the way to transport. ...

People have calluses on their hands.

People's sweat soaked their clothes.

People are too tired to straighten up.

People's faces are tanned.

Smiles bloom on people's faces.

People's eyes are tired.

But it is full of joy of harvest.

Pass on the light of happiness.

Transplantation, transplantation

The coolness of the morning

Under the oppression of the scorching sun

Ran away in a hurry

Smooth soil in rice fields.

Want to fight the scorching sun?

But his body is very thin.

Sweat is growing day by day.

What about hardworking people?

Endure the scorching sun and heat.

Seedlings are planted one by one.

Let the rice fields wear green clothes.

People's legs are getting heavier and heavier

People suffer from back pain.

People put elbows on their knees.

People retreat step by step.

People bend over and over again.

People bow their heads for too long.

Makes people dizzy.

Transplantation, transplantation

People get up earlier than the morning sun.

People don't come back until after sunset.

When the morning star has been lit.

When the frog drum rings

What about tired people?

Gather into a noisy stream

Flowing to a quiet village

Final determination