"A scorched field exhibited its dim
body like charcoal. Son, your land it is?"
"Yes. There was a big fire. The crops
were burnt, relentlessly. Lost its fertility,
the field remained this way for years."
"You never tried to spread the seeds again?"
"No. I will build a pretty mansion with
this bag of coins; the final use of it
it'd be. I fear the damaged place could not
produce the grains so fine like 'twas before."
"You've got to resurrect the land, to grow
more crops to sell and to earn more coins; or how
could you to build a 'mansion' with the bit?
Save no seeds, and save no plow. The prime
youth comes not twice. Your time is long, though bruised
once. Seize the sun, reaching yet middle of the day."
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