A song of the peasant farmer who grows maize
Cultivating loam soils, planting sorghum seeds under the glaze
Of the tropical sun, cattle draught power harnessed
Bold backs blessed, hands hassled, breath stressed.
A song of the peasant farmer who groans and yearns for farming inputs:
Ammonium nitrate, urea, seed, pesticide, vaccine. The farmer puts
A great deal of commitment to tender the field
To weed out pests, to chase birds in expectation of a yield
That recoups his investment
Although his threadbare vestment
Waits long with bated breath
For the crop to yield the health
And wealth the farmer backs
If the floor price pats his back and stacks
The reward the farmer expects
Despite volatile economic prospects.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem