Classic Poem

Where near the parched trunks of prickly pear with its thorns
like horns on an ox that moves slowly along for the plowing,
children whose heads are easily hurt search out wild rats
through the stubble of freshly cut millet and snatch up
their bows and cause an uproar that startles a small hare
with big eyes that jumps into the courtyard and shatters
black pots and if the sugarcane press makes a loud noise,
scabbard fish with thick necks leap up nearby, there can be found
a city in the wastelands and it is ruled by
a spearman who grants no sleep to kings of cool cities by the waters.