Guldasta

  Day and night he toiled and tilled

  For his sons and their children

  Until his fields bore produce in abundance

  And his family wore clothes bright and new 

  From atop each haystack he saw a future rising

  And a smile would break the sharp curves of his cheekbone

  Inspired, he worked till the moon shone bright

  And back to the fields he came before morning light

  The years so passed until one day

  His sons found small the house of clay

  To the city they went for a better life

  And left behind the old man and his wife

  Frail and weak he has now become

  His knees shudder and hands shake

  And wrinkled legs speak no more

  Of the strength that made up village lore 

  But where are his sons he asks

  To stand beside him and share his tasks

  The setting sun has turned a thief

  And robbed him even of his belief 

  The field he still furrows and seeds

  For it takes care of all but a man’s greed

  Sons he may have none to call his own

  But the haystack still in the moonlight shone

—

Continued here