Song of the Golden Terraces
A harvest poem of autumn hills, shared labor, and celebration
Abstract
Official Publication SummaryInspired by the autumn harvest in the mountain villages, where neighbors come together to reap the fields on steep hill slopes, singing in rhythm to lift each other's spirits.
Song of the Golden Terraces
When golden ears of harvest crown the hill,
The ridges wake and every hearth grows still.
With grateful hands that worked the summer sun,
We lift our song until the day is done.
Across the slope our neighbor's laughter calls,
As evening on the quiet terrace falls.
The grain is gathered and the baskets full,
A season's blessing in the autumn cool.
"When golden ears of harvest crown the hill, The ridges wake and every hearth grows still. With grateful hands that worked the summer sun, We lift our song until the day is done."
The Joy of Shared Labor
Harvest in the hills is never solitary. It is a shared rhythm where work turns into celebration, and songs echo from ridge to ridge as the daylight gently fades.