NOTE: 10

6.

I am bringing bread to the plow, I am bringing it [with the vessel's] mouth open. Look how much I love you— I am bringing the fish fried. Today the plow is ours, The one holding the plow-tail is my father. The fair-haired ox-driver lad— The world knows—is my lord [and master]. Having risen at cockcrow, He drives the plow in the hollow. The fiery sun in the sky— Its ray has struck the furrow. O birds, spread your wings, Cast a shadow over my beloved. Let the gentle breeze blow, And along with it, sing a lullaby.