Bad time sad day
No smile no laugh
No child no cry
She sat down on old wooden stool
Waiting for the collection of seeds,
It’s the harvest time.

Good days had gone:
Ploughing and planting
Watering and nursing
Every day in the season.

It’s time for breeding:
Hard and painful
Bending and staggering helplessly
Because harvest time is near.

Vineyardist is going up and down like a kite
Peeped through the door to call the door keeper
And ask what have happened?

Bad time sad day has come around again
One basket of seeds is collected
Because the land is weak
And seeds died,
This time the land died.

The village is calm
As babies are sized from breasts
Women from kitchens
Men from works
Sad day comes every year
As the youths are missing
And the olds are increasing.