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And now, Eternal One, some are held captive and poor.
    Release them, and restore our fortunes
    as the dry riverbeds of the South spring to life when the rains come at last.
Those who walk the fields to sow, casting their seed in tears,
    will one day tread those same long rows, amazed by what’s appeared.
Those who weep as they walk
    and plant with sighs
Will return singing with joy,
    when they bring home the harvest.

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