Feel The Pulse in Our Sweat

The forge brings forth it high pitch sound

As the smith simultaneously strikes the burning rod.

The carpenter's hammer couldn't stay mute

As he strikes to drive the stubborn nail into the wood.

What a harmonious melody I can hear

In my  heart's ear as they run past me.

The mason is free, he wipes his brow

As a  sign of freedom from hard labours of the day

He is gay, you could tell it from his bright sunken eyes

As  he ran to the bay bare-footed.

The bellow takes a rest as a sweet voice calls from behind the forge house

To cue adjournment of the days case

With deem glows, the fire mourns.

The stubborn nail has learned his lessons

He now rests peacefully in the bosom of his host.

The carpenter rest his tools, wipes his brow as dusk become domineering,

He kneels by his invention and mutters;

Grant us rest oh, for we are weary

These are our heartbeats, feel the pulse in our sweat.