Foragers and herders have
Plenty of time to observe,
Whether waiting patiently
In a wooded glade for game
Or sitting long hours guarding
Flocks grazing the mountainside.
From them, folktales and lyrics.
Peasants have plenty of time
For planting and harvesting,
For endless, back-breaking chores,
Storing hopes, scaring off crows.
From fall fields, winter firesides,
And dark cellar holes, wonder
Tales, fairies, trolls, and witches.
Priests and their aristocrats
Have plenty of time for death,
Ritual sacrifices,
Blood-letting, off with the heads,
Regicides, intrigues, incest,
Beating the bounds of conquest,
From them, the hymns and epics.
Bureaucrats and scholars have
Plenty of time for failure,
For petty little squabbles
And fantasies of a home
Somewhere in the countryside
Far away from each other.
From them, poems as lists, like this.
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