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Literature and Poetry/



Idioms speaking to me: We planted
in the furrow of the heart;
And a day will come and we will be
golden stalks.

And a tender child will come to you
to choose from flowers of wheat
And a poor wanderer in your nights
will break his hunger.

Plowing and planting,
in the furrow of the heart,
Come, do come, stranger and friend,
to the nearing harvest festival!

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