Shivering in night's cold, wet clothes wrapped in short coir cape, Chest torn, feet cracked—how can pain be bo…
Shivering in night's cold, wet clothes wrapped in short coir cape,
Chest torn, feet cracked—how can pain be borne with grace?
By dawn, toil's hardship finds no words to tell,
Yet in unison they tramp, hauling boats with song's swell.
What's a thatched cottage worth, you ask?
Yet from this hometown, none can part.
Oh, may these waters turn to fertile fields,
So boatmen never curse the sky they yield.