Wind of Recourse

Blow Blow now, blow Wind of recourse Blow Sweep the thistles off Their rooted feet Clear the sharp thorns Off the fertile farm. Blow Blow quickly, blow Wind of recourse Blow Let the millet grow in peace Without the troubling weed Let the spinach bloom and spread Without the piercing nails of the thorns Blow Blow hurriedly, blow Wind of recourse Blow Blow across the length Blow across the breadth Of this fagging farm And let the labours not be vain. Blow Blow right now, blow Wind of recourse Blow Don’t leave the weed to grow And share food with precious mustards What become of the yield? If the weeds in pride are left to live. Blow Blow thither, blow Wind of recourse Blow And let the crops be free From those hateful weeds It’s then the farm shall rejoice Like one with lasting splendour.