My Emerald Song and Golden Bloom

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 She was a golden flower, my heart's delight,
With eyes like morning, clear and ever bright.
Her laughter rang, a joyful, vivid call,
Like parrot song, enchanting through it all.
A spirit free, a dancing, emerald grace,
Reflected in her sweet and tender face.

Through azure skies she flew, with flocks so grand,
Then sought her nest, by sugarcane in the land.
Along the path where reapers pass each day,
My thoughts would turn, and wistfully I'd pray:

"At noon, my love, to my small banana grove,
Come share a meal, and let your spirit rove.
Oh, golden flower, come, your voice so sweet,
Where rice is blooming, for the reapers, a rich song complete.
A melody dancing, from your lips so fine,
To twine your vibrant spirit close with mine."

Let's cut down all the mountains, turn them into fields anew,
And sow the seeds together, darling, me and you.
No obstacle too grand, no dream too far,
When side by side, beneath our guiding star.

When I gaze at the golden rice field, wide and deep,
When in the tree's cool shade I fall asleep,
When I grow weary, my strength grown thin,
When I am singing in the grass, from deep within —
Little Queen, my heart, my eager eyes,
When I am singing for you, beneath these skies,
Let our voices rise, a harmony so true,
My heart will sing for you, and only you.

When I am singing, my heart will fight with might,
My hands, together, will with passion strive,
To reap the rice fields and the rice dreams, grand and vast.
Together, shoulder to shoulder, standing fast,
We'll raise the sword— in the battle that will be won.
My heart will sing for you, till setting sun.

If you had spun a golden spindle through the blue,
And stretched the sky, for all our dreams anew,
Together we would harvest, side by side,
And live with yearning, joy, our hearts allied.
Nearby, we'd plant honey mango trees, so true,
And savor ripened fruit, just me and you.

If you were here, my emerald-hearted bird,
And golden Aryan rice, a promise stirred,
Across a thousand fields, our life would bloom,
Then that would be, dispelling every gloom,
The melody of our most beautiful song,
My precious one, where we would both belong.
The singer — is the singer of tomorrow.

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