The Reapers

Reapers, in the field, the ear is bowing,
The owner is waiting, the work is not lazy.
Hurry up, hands, dont be lazy,
Try to collect the grain in the bins.
After all, the collection time is not eternal,
The harvest, as a gift, is so fleeting.
Thirst for harvest, thirst for life,
In work, in prayer, in faith, in the Fatherland.