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Bright are those extensive fields, |
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A tenth of whose produce is annually levied. |
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I take the old stores, |
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And with them feed the husbandmen, |
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From of old we have had good years, |
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And now I go to the south-lying acres, |
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Where some are weeding, and some gather the earth about the roots. |
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The millets look luxuriant; |
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And in a spacious resting place, |
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I collect and encourage the men of greater promise. |
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With my vessels full of bright millet, |
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And my pure victim-rams, |
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We sacrificed to [the Spirits of] the land, and to [those of] the four quarters. |
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That my fields are in such good condition, |
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Is matter of joy to my husbandmen. |
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With lutes, and with drums beating, |
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We will invoke the Father of husbandry, |
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And pray for sweet rain, |
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To increase the produce of our millets, |
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And to bless my men and their wives. |
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The distant descendant comes, |
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When their wives and children, |
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Are bringing food to those [at work] in the south-lying acres. |
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The surveyor of the fields [also] comes, and is glad. |
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He takes [of the food] on the left and the right, |
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And tastes whether it be good or not. |
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The grain is well cultivated, all the acres over; |
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Good will it be and abundant. |
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The distant descendant has no displacency; |
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The husbandmen are encouraged to diligence. |
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The crops of the distant descendant, |
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Look [thick] as thatch, and [swelling] like a carriage cover. |
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The stacks of the distant descendant, |
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Will stand like islands and mounds. |
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He will seek for thousands of granaries; |
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He will seek for myriads of carts. |
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The millets, the paddy, and the maize, |
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Will awake the joy of the husbandmen; |
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[And they will say], ' May he be rewarded with great happiness. |
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With myriads of years, life without end! |