You spent you last winter with me
here in the bone-dry cold
where the harsh sun of summer
can now but weakly warm my cheek.
You spent your last winter with me
here in the arid land
devoid of snow and rain
where earth and land show cracks of pain.
You spent a winter full of love
and became one with the air unknown to you.
You dug gardens in the seedless oil,
you grew sweet potato, forgot
that suffering bears fruits of bitterness.
You brought your dreams, you hopes to feed
the open eyes that had long stopped seeing.
You planted your soul in the barren fields
and flew away to an eternal spring.
You gave your last winter to this land in turmoil,
this the land of great extremes.
We’ll remember your face when the seasons change colours,
when green leaves turn yellow and yellow turns green.
We’ll harvest the fruit of your toiling soul
and feed the people of the land that you loved so.