A keresés eredménye

At Dawn

Waterskin in hand, upon my shoulder
A basket, a rake, and a hoe –
Onto the far off fields, to work I go.
 
On the right – mountains stand as watchmen,
Vast open fields lay before me,
And my twenty springs of living all sing with glee.
 
My fate is thus till I am one with the sands:
Thy standing grain beneath the sun
And the dirt of Thy paths. My Land.