Professional Documents
Culture Documents
O Farmers
O Farmers
O farmers, happy beyond measure, could they but know their blessings! For them, far from the
clash of arms, most righteous Earth, unbidden, pours forth from her soil an easy sustenance. If no
stately mansion with proud portals disgorges from its halls at dawn a flood of those who have come
to greet its lord, if they never gaze at doors inlaid with lovely tortoiseshell or at draperies tricked with
gold or at bronzes of Ephyra, if their wool’s whiteness is not stained with Assyrian dyes or the
service of their clear oil is not spoiled with cassia: yet they have sleep free from anxiety, a life that is
innocent of guile and rich with untold treasures. The peace of broad domains, caverns, and natural
lakes, and cool vales, the lowing of oxen, and soft slumbers beneath the trees – all are theirs. They
have woodland glades and the haunts of game; a youth hardened to toil and inured to scanty fare;
worship of gods and reverence for age; among them, as she departed from the earth, Justice left the
last imprint of her feet.
a rich livelihood from her soil, far from the clash of armies!
as she left the Earth, planted her last steps among them.
where earth-quakes come from, forces that swell the deep seas,
O, fermieri, mai mult decât fericiți dacă și-au dat seama de binecuvântările lor,
Cât despre mine, fie ca dulcele Muze, supreme mai presus de toate,