In the long furrows. Birds of prey. They come close To my father s dirty trouser legs. Shoo, he cries. They merely jump back a little With a golden drop of sweat below the blue Of their necks.
Spring starts with hunger.
Here is our land, father With one furrow where two black crows Strut. Closing On your feet. Spring starts with hunger, Like life. With a golden dream Under the eyelashes of a child.