It was hot noon
With sweating often
Not easy job
I thought of labors
Working with honor
To think no more
Only two times bread
To meet end
Working more still not dead
Yes work is worship
People say often and issue whip
I silently hear and keep
It is good to sustain
And maintain
The joy in pain
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
ok Hela Tekali5 hours ago ok