Farmer's Outburst

Poetry by | September 4, 2011

Translation of Bugiot san Parag-uma by Harold Mercurio

My neck now stiffens
Looking up at the sky
For the rain to fall.

The mounds are now stricken by black ants
Where corn is planted
For it to grow.

The carabao wallows
In its bed of clay
To cool its body burning from heat.

When will the water system
Flow in the rice field
As promised by those in power?