The golden fields are green, though bare,
No paddy, only wild grass thriving there.
With the heavens above and earth below
brimming with nature’s beauty galore.
These fields used to be filled with golden crop,
Bowing down, waiting to harvest every last drop.
But now the fields are neglected and free,
For the local wildlife to relish it with glee.
I am not sure which version I like best,
And that question I shall not put to test.
I would rather enjoy the changing tides of time,
Feel the gentle wind, and feast the vision sublime.