In winter's clinch, when fields lie veiled in white,
The villagers stimulate, hearts glaze,
With bamboo frames, we rise to her name’s praise,
A goddess grows from soil, with pure light.
With rice and harvests, we celebrate her vision,
We tie together, we share the folk melody,
With love and laughter, and awe this deity,
In dance and song, our souls take joyful navigation.
Till the midnight, her spirit construct our say,
Through effort and sweat, the harvest we cherish,
In simple ways, her blessings we display.
As spotlights gleam, dreams come to flourish,
In every harvest, we find our hope’s ray,
In Tusu’s love, we concept our aspirations and wish.
. . .
Discus