epigraph: write poems, dear husband,

says she - and so he does.

peaceful nature

it would be wise while cheerfully playing the flute

to follow a particular plow

but what's the use - magpies already in flight

spread their wings,

and devilishly look forward to the peas, oh so green!

that were entrusted to the good earth,

but in vain - for the peas have already been stolen by critters

before they even bloomed

and at the roots, brazen and busy moles

gnaw in great numbers,

and where they scratch

there remains but a bare patch

for weeks and weeks rain falls endlessly

                                                            from the dark sky,

what the worms didn't eat

and the birds forgot,

is finally drowned.

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