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In fields afar, a silent chorus sings,
They bring forth food, yet fade from mind.
In rural havens, where their hearts take wing,
With spouse or alone, their souls confined.
In spring's soft breath, they sow the seeds,
In autumn's grace, they reap and glean.
Their hands, the land's symphonic leads,
They wear the name of "farmer" true,
Yet each a story, rich and deep.
Through whispered tales, we'll bring to view,
Their lives, the memories we shall keep.
We'll listen close, each voice, each heart,
To share their songs with open eyes.
Beyond the soil, their stories start,
Etched in our hearts, their legacy lies.
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