We heap wheat stack to highness
Each wheat straw hides a story
The fragrance of wheat mixes with salty sweat
Awn of wheat gets into our memory
The sun of the day, the moon of the night
The wheat stack constantly changes the color
like a island floating on blue sea
My wheat stack is bearing the hope of childhood in a dream
Oh my village, I am back, riding a canoe of dream
I watch the blossom of broad beans in the filed
The pyramid of wheat stack is inclined to bury me
Time melts into sand; the painting of my preexistence opens up
The dense sound dances on the thin hair of straw
This life brought by a gust is covered with dust