[from within one of the young workers]

The sun is blazing on earth, every living thing is wet with sweat,

I work in these fields, with feelings in my chest, hope in my heart,

I worked less back home, and had some respect,

what happened to the dreams they told us we could realize in another country like America?

I move every two years from city to city, within California,

from Huntington Beach to Santa Ana to Irvine now,

each field proving to be harder and requiring more work than the previous one,

I heard people saying Saigon sometimes when they were jogging past the fields,

So I asked other workers I knew what the word Saigon meant in English,

I found out Saigon looked liks this, all the country,

now I know how they must have felt, now that I know what happened there, even though it was an entirely different case.

They went there to end such fields and bring the new harmony,

little did everyone know that those people loved their lives already,

they went in there to end such fields and bring a Western system into place,

yet the make us work here the same way, not a single white face or race working with us here,

I sleep next to the same faces, work with the same faces, live and eat with the same faces,

I am a minority in a country where I cam to be treated like a majority,

This is my dream converted to reality; I now have to live my life in this place.

At least I know people in Saigon and other places work hard like us,

it does not matter if we are happy like them or not,

we both share the same sense of duty; duty to work hard and find happiness within ourselves.