Send away the last ray of hot sunshine in summer,
You hold the hand of the seed,
Holding hands all the way,
Experienced two long and short seasons.
Just for the sake of,
There are fruits with golden branches hanging high everywhere,
The farmers in the Hotan wilderness smiled stupidly.
I saw it clearly,
Their eyes are full of tears of joy.
Finally,
Ears of grain in rice fields,
Quietly climb to the top of the former seedling,
Bend leaves;
But also bends the back pressure of the harvester,
Bend the pole.
You use a face after harvest,
Comfort the sweat of farmers who have traveled for a long time.
Swallows fly south,
You send them to the treetops and let the fallen leaves return to their roots.
Spit out a little white fog affectionately,
Cover their footprints when they come home,
Leaving only the blue sky,
Long, long memories.