“Following with a hungry gaze the cooking of rice in a pot, the mowers of the farm listened to Uncle Correchol, a stocky old man with a shock of gray hair on his chest visible from under his half-unbuttoned shirt. Red faces, tanned in the sun, glowed in the reflection of the flame of the hearth. The bodies were wet with sweat after a day of work, saturating the hot atmosphere of the kitchen with the rough smell of life...” The work is given in the pre-reform alphabet.