And I Will Till the Soil Triumphant
And it came with the rain,
A golden plough soaked in Nectar
Till the soil, the cracks of the soil,
Till the soil, let us pull the dead roots loose.
Are there, am too- let us tear each other's rags,
You lost once, twice- left an open scar,
Bled until no more blood to dry,
The scorched earth has more to yield.
Were there, was too- we were but torn pieces of sweat,
You lost the war under our feet and met the Temptress,
Hail! Your crushed bones and teeth and Seed.
Unhealed wound of parched land seems deathless.
Am triumphant, are not- and will till the soil I have,
I will harvest the bloom of the soil- the good earth,
I will pluck the full fruit now or never,
And it was your thirst for the rain.