Solitaire man, one more field to clear,
Sowing with his bare, callous hands,
And watering with his sweat and tears.

Looking for a gentle, loving touch,
Searched high and low for a woman,
Around him love wasn’t much.

The rain came and changed the season,
The dust settled and there she was,
Why or how, he could not find a reason.

Her hand he took, and she loved him,
And together they started working;
It was again the season for sowing.

KBS, February 2009