With the smell of clay <br />And taste of sweat, he toils. <br />When his spade scoops a piece of earth’ <br />It sends shudders through my nerves, <br />But the next moment I wish <br />To take a spade and scoop. <br />He sows, manures, waters, <br />Removes the weeds out: <br />All not in the same day <br />But slowly, intermittently. <br />He keeps his nerves when <br />A tiny worm makes designs <br />On the tender twigs, <br />When a deadly fly sucks out <br />The blood of juicy boughs <br />And alas! One day, when a mad wind <br />Uprooted his child like plants. <br />There are lines of pain on his forehead <br />Hidden by the trickling sweat <br />But cool is he like a breeze, <br />Kind is he like a mother cow; <br />When the first flower blooms <br />Blissful is he like the God!<br /><br />J thampi Jayasingh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/farmer-4/
