Ibukalan Miners

IBUKALAN MINERS

His soles were cracked as land of long summer

Yet, the mud seems cannot defy his goal

From the scorching of the sun, he sweats his agony

Along with his carabao, travels home when the sun goes down

                

                                 Folks feel better when new moon comes   

                                 For in the morning, still soaking their palm

                                 The small green grasses planted a cube apart

                                 Building mountain, such treasure of jade

The greenish mountain turns amber and gold

After the fading of six long full moons

With the women’s sharp-bladed tools

Mining the treasure, a precious they prove

                                  Their lips painted with pink and red

                                  Eyes are gloomy in the sunny day

                                  Pounding the gold in the pestle stone

                                 Hard and thorough or pain to cure

                                Yet, again and again, diamonds they cause.