(Excerpt)

And make a nuptial bed, oh,

you who make the bed of

love using the freest grass and

the nuptial bed and the sickle

that reaps the wheat.

Gypsy, work on the steel, you

who has lived in isolation

in high-light-blue places

work on the steel, oh gypsy, 

in the fire for the fire

make all the spears,

shields and swords.

The miser’s wealth, you, who

have never had of such but

the golden flowers of the plains

the miser’s wealth forever

seal deep in the safe’s depth

make unbreakable locks.

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