iv. Wheat and Sickle

 

Golden wheats in left and sickle in right arm,

The princess reap the field , along the young hearts.

 

He advances forward, with a bamboo basket

Oh dear beautiful, may you put those crop in it don’t let these harsh things hurt the soft palm of you

I can’t bear even a reddish spot on that hand.

Oh dear young man it’s just a sickle

Mine has handled swords of steel,

Spears of iron and arrows of Reed.