The ploughshares
Cut the earth deep into lumps
Of shiny soil and they stitch themselves
Loosely in the expanse of the land
And corn will bear this home
Bent in the coming storm.
This where the slothful hoe
Hanging on my brother's shoulder has failed
As he bends and bend
Teasing the earth
Tickling it and getting nothing in return.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem