Only you will hear the noise of the wheat,
that sways calmly in the wind of August.
Only you will see the summer sun,
that batheth the ears of corn with its light.
And after hearing all of this,
you will take your last breath
while the scythe falls on the harvest
and the torrid heat of summer,
will abandon you.
Poem (C): Me
“Harvest at La Crau” (C): Vincent Van Gogh
