By Pekingto Jimo
This stretch of rich and verdant land you see,
Once mine, passed down by my forebears to me,
The land my fathers farmed with harvests great,
Now grandly stands as other’s proud estate.
A life of lavish comfort I once lived,
From selling the lands, that with rich crops thrived.
And while the rest, ends meet could hardly make,
I bought cars, spent wealth for self-glory’s sake.
Such foolish desires caused my frenzied greed,
That I now dream the lands, and rue my deed.
In each dream that consumes me with despair,
My fathers’ deep and plaintive cries I hear.
They seem dismayed and wanting me to know,
They’re sad for these lands I can no more sow,
For barns that once held the yields of the lands,
But now is just a plot that vacant stands.
They are no more mine even in a dream,
And tears, like river, down my pale cheeks stream.
How I long for these lands that were once mine!
I’ve wasted these lands, the gift of divine!
This land that you’re considering to buy,
Transformed to farm by my parents and I,
Remains infused still with their toil and sweat,
So, I frequent it, burdened with regret,
And now earn wages tending this farmland,
And modest sum for caretaking the land.
Sir, no objection card mustn’t pose a threat,
And I assure, you’ll by no means regret.
A low price offer I, the truth I speak,
For I, like brokers, profit do not seek.
A small amount you may, if you’re inclined,
For that’s a gift which cannot be declined.
All I ask of you, Sir, is to agree,
To let me be the caretaker; my plea.
The wild doves’ cooing, the sweet cuckoo’s song,
Remembrances of my parents bring along,
So, from this land I never wish to part,
Till from the earth I shall at last depart.
Allow me, from this land, my grief to cope;
For it’s my only hope, it’s My Last Hope.