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Behold I have not plowed nor have I planted,
I have not prayed for the rain.
And suddenly, see! My fields have grown
Sun-blessed grain instead of thistle.
Is it the aftergrowth of ancient produce,…
Upon your nakedness a white day celebrates,
You who are [so] poor and so rich,
A wall of mountains has frozen,
Transparent like a deceptive vision,
Attached to the horizon.
Noon. The vastnesses of…
Wide, open, free lay the land,
Extending to far horizons.
The sandy red tract stretches
Far and strange and lonely,
Bordered by low wild plants
And unknown herbs
With…