Thanks to you God the Creator!
To have destined me to be a farmer.
Oh Master of Nature
You have given me the Happiness
To work in your company.
You give the Earth, the rain and the heat.
I fertilize, sow, weed, harvest.
And is there in this
World A nobler profession?
The disdain of city-folk makes me laugh
When they take the farmer for a poor leper
Yet he owns a thousand gold things,
And his silver shines
On dewy mornings
On the tip of each grassblade in his green meadows.
Seas of grain shafts wave on his terrain
Ponds of emeralds where his livestock wander,
And amethyst paths among his fields.
To him the wholesome perfumes and the pure songs
Of birds and flowers.
To him the buzzing of the bees,
The rustling of the leaves.
To him the howling and humming of the wind,
And the infinite vault of a star-studded sky.
O yes! Thanks to you Lord
To have destined me to be a farmer.

24 March 1970.

Translated by Lenora Timm

This poem in breton

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