Winter crop field

Golden rice in the sleeping bed
The scent still lingers with the wind of the fields.
Straw and stubble are making love to the earth
In the afternoon, I heard it as if it was there or not.

Soak in the scent of the rice fields that have not yet rested
Winter crops have covered the plowed area
Watermelon, cantaloupe, beans, corn... full of fields
The horizon is a vast blue.

The land of our ancestors has been plowed for thousands of years
For generations, rice and potatoes have been grown.
Storm protection, rain protection, exposure to the sun and fire
Just hope to have enough rice to eat until the first two months of the year...

Immerse yourself in the mountains and rivers of the land
The whole nation has fought the enemy for generations.
Wherever you go, wherever you return… the soul of the homeland lies in your chest.
Generations sacrificed to keep this land.

Holding the warm, smooth, pink village soil in my hand
Fruity and woody scents blend with earthy scents
Hear the rhythm of the fields in your breath
We are drunk with the vast green fields of winter...