PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE
Tearning the womb of the clay
the little seedling has got to say,
I am the daughter of the earth
this is how I take my birth.
Though my creator has been a seed
which in turn is born to a weed,
I am the daughter of the earth
this remains the eternal truth.
When the wind blows with all its
might
she hugs me soft and gently tight,
She aids me grow strong and bright
by feeding me all day and night.
Though on her wealth I thrive
as far as I am alive,
She weeps from the gulf of her heart
when I suffer you men's onslaught.
Thus, I am the daughter of the earth
whose heart as warm as a hearth,
I am her infinite source of mirth
this is the essence of my birth.