NOTE: 8

3

The Morning Star has peeked out, Drive the plow out to the hill. *Horovel ho!* The lark flew up from its nest, Light dawned from the place of prayer [the East]. The sweet breeze rustled softly, The bush and flower began to nod. Plowboys, rise up quickly, Yoke the whips and yokes [to the team]. Plowman, look toward the place of prayer, Give glory to God with one voice. The buffalo of *Msr* [is] under the yoke, Let the small wheel roll on.