(Verse 1) In the fields where the bitter herbs thrive, And the withered grass lies beneath the sky, Wheat whispers secrets of golden hue, A tale of the Earth, both old and new. (Chorus) Grainful bliss, in the heart of May, Nature's dance, in the light of day. Rivers rise, but they do not spill, Life's full circle, in the season's will. (Verse 2) From the North where the grains swell with pride, To the South where the waters rise beside, It's the time when the small becomes more, A cycle of life, from the core. (Bridge) Full yet not flooding, a balance so fine, A life of moderation, by design. Neither haughty nor humble, just perfectly set, In the philosophy of Xiao Man, we find our set. (Chorus) As the grain is going full, as the harvests near, The eighth node, in the cycle clear. With the wax and wane, we understand, The beauty of life, in Xiao Man's hand. (Outro) So let's celebrate the small, the full, the bright, In the season of Xiao Man, we find our light. For in every grain and every drop that fills, There lies a story, of ancient skills. (END) (Outro) So let's celebrate the small, the full, the bright, In the season of Xiao Man, we find our light. For in every grain and every drop that fills, There lies a story, of ancient skills. (END) (Outro) So let's celebrate the small, the full, the bright, In the season of Xiao Man, we find our light. For in every grain and every drop that fills, There lies a Chinese story, of ancient skills. (END)