They choose a pursuit so noble,
They set out to feed the millions from the fodder of their mother land,
Only to be looked down on, and belittled.
They never have it easy, they always have to fight all odds,
They are forced to starve, while they give us food to eat,
Most of their lives, they spend, fighting against famine.
They have no one, nothing, to turn to,
Tired of their existence, they bleed themselves to death,
For, the million promises of a better future seem bleak, empty, non – existent.
From pole to post each day,
Looking for a ray of hope, for a streak of sunshine…
For every morsel they have given us to eat,
For every single time they have had to unduly face the heat,
I truly wish all this, is just a diminished fragment of my imagination,
Not the country’s gospel truth,
Not the farmers’ blinding reality.