Sapiens qui prospicit

These plants I sow are my life,

they are my everything,

the toil I go through is in recognition for the harvest yet to come.

I call out for others to join me.

Come summer I will reap plenty,

yet the labourers are few.

There is weariness for the day is long and the work hard,

yet my father sees me prudent.

Those sleeping bring shame and gather dust.

Despite hardship, I recognise I have multiplied the nation.

They take splendour in me,

we divide the spoil and rejoice with joy at the feast.

If only the others knew.

Those who sow will reap.

I pray for an awakening.