Chapter 4,
In fields where the golden harvest sways,
My father stands tall, a beacon of praise.
A farmer of justice, his spirit runs deep,
Guarding our peace while the village sleeps.
With pride in his heart and dignity bright,
He champions the cause of what’s just and right.
Yet shadows loom near as the temple authorities call,
To fell the Na tree, a giant to fall.
This sacred Ficus, where our ancestors rest,
In its branches, their spirits forever blessed.
"My comrades," he cries, "we must stand as one,
To protect what is sacred, our battle’s begun."
Together they gather, a resolute band,
Defending the tree, this beloved land.
For in its great boughs, our history sings,
A legacy woven with the love that it brings.
So, we rise up for nature, for heritage’s sake,
In the heart of the forest, our stand we will make.
For the Na tree is more than a tree to behold,
It’s a link to our past, a story retold.
