The hardened brown earth is to me both foe
And friend, unyielding of its old bounty
When a taste of my sweat it has not sipped.
Only when full is its fill does it smile
On my grimy groans for frail sustenance;
The rumbling ceases,then, for meager bread.
But weariness of body and mind this
Breathing of life can be, and living is
It truly when the desire of it wanes?
Better yet I see is to the dregs drink
Of this barrel of laughs, and both player
And audience be in tragic comedy.
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