The burning woman

The woman who was bent over like rice

She devoted her milk and tears to this piece

Barren and painful land

She said, "Women in the mountains should be like fruits.

Always keep your head down and remain silent

She said that women in the mountains should be like sun-dried rice

Willing to have one's skin and bones crushed

On that continuous hillside, she galloped towards the scattered cattle and sheep

Then he picked up a handful of straw and spent his entire life lighting this pile of firewood

She handed Flame a photo of her youth

I saw her shining eyes

See her thick and black braid

Seeing the season that has not yet bloomed still residing within her

The swaying reeds were reflected in the face in the firelight

Along with that yellowed, neat photo

Burn together

She finally grew into a crop with a poor harvest

When finally harvested in the field

I saw there was still one in her eye

Unsown seeds