(i am the weary earth)
I AM THE weary earth of summer bare of life and parched.
I wait for thy shower to come down in the night when I open my breast and receive it in silence.
I long to give thee in return my songs and flowers.
But empty is my store, and only the deep sigh rises from my heart
through the withered grass.
But I know that thou wilt wait for the morning when my hours will brim with their riches.