Explore "Reaping" by Ricardo Flores Magón on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
At the edge of the road, I find a man with weeping eyes and tossed black hair, staring at the thistle at his feet. "Why are you crying? " I ask, and he answers, "I cry because I did everything I could for my comrades. I sowed my parcel of land with hard work, as any man who respects himself must do; but those for whom I did so much good made me suffer, and in regard to my land, lacking water, that was snatched by the rich, only to produce those dry thistles you can see at my feet."
Bad harvest, I say, the one that the good ones harvest, as I continue my march.