the farmer asks:
Father, would you rather have me visit the church and think
about my farm
or that i work in the farm and think about God?
i listen attentively and i who have the nerves entwined in my bones
and embedded in my cartilages want to speak:
there is propriety in all that we do.
when you are in the farm work like a farmer and think about what you
can do with the farm,
and when you are in church praying, think solely about God.
i admire Dodot for raising it before the elders.
But Dodot is still strange, and to those who watch him closely
did not see it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem