I'll Glance In The Field

I'll glance in the field, glance in the sky - Both the fields and sky are my paradise. Again my undone land Is diving into the stacks of rye. Again, in the untended groves There are inescapable herds, And the water from the golden fountain Is cascading down the green hills. Oh, I believe, it must be, the agony Over the last suffering man That someone is effusing Gentle hands like milk.