My soul is resting; there is no testing.
The world is bright; my heart is light.
I’ve done the job, be it perfect or not,
And I will wait for the fruits, having planted the roots.
They’ll be good, I believe, for the seeds are sweet;
I’ve fed them with tears, and have kept them from spears.
You will see them grow and will like the show.
They will give you delight and sweeten your sight.
I will eat them, too, and enjoy them all
For who labors in pain never labors in vain.