Chapter 27
section twenty seven of cain harvest song i am a reaper whose muscles set at sundown all my oats are cradled but i am too chilled and too fatigued to bind them and i hunger i crack a grain between my teeth i do not taste it i've been in the fields all day my throat is dry i hunger my eyes are caked with dust of oat-fields at a harvest time i am a blind man who stares across the hills seeking stacked fields of other harvesters it would be good to see them crooked split and iron ringed handles of the scythes it would be good to see them dust caked and blind i hunger
dusk is a strange feared sheath their blades are dolled in my throat is dry and should i call a cracked grain like the oats ee-o-ho i fear to call what should they hear me and offer me their grain oats or wheat or corn i've been in the fields all day i fear i could not taste it i fear knowledge of my hunger my ears are caked with dust of oat-fields at harvest-time i am a deaf man who strains to hear the calls of other harvesters whose throats are also dry it would be good to hear their songs reapers of the sweet stalked cane cutters of the corn even though their throats cracked and the strangeness of their voices deafened me i hunger my throat is dry now that the sun has set and i am chilled i fear to call e o ho my brothers
i am a reaper e o ho all my oats are cradled but i am too fatigued to bind them and i hunger i crack a grain it has no taste to it my throat is dry oh my brothers i beat my palms still soft against the stubble of my harvesting you beat your soft palms too my pain is sweet sweeter than the oats or wheat or corn it will not bring me knowledge of my hunger
