Song of the Sower
Ah! Sower
you have placed in the furrow
your love:
tomorrow's shoots
will be your chief
payment.
Throw to the wind
the wheat and the sound
of your first
love laments ...
And await the future,
sowing.
you have placed in the furrow
your love:
tomorrow's shoots
will be your chief
payment.
Throw to the wind
the wheat and the sound
of your first
love laments ...
And await the future,
sowing.