Surviving

As the evening falls And the returning birds Look at us suspiciously Me and my father Gather the tools Spades, sickles, pickaxes Axes and hoes He walks bent a little to The front at the waist I follow him Soaked with sweat We finish tilling the small Piece of land My mother waits for us Sitting at the door She smiles at me As I wash my feet at the stairs Sitting around the lamp We eat the rice gruel With chili and onion And hope that this year Monsoon will arrive in time And we have nice crops And we don't have to borrow Money to buy clothes for us