Furrows Of Gods

And early spring laughed: It’s time!

Behind the black road, behind the great meadow

My great-grandfather and great-great, great-great

Everybody follow time, like a plough

Behind a field there’s a field, behind a field, a field and a field

Behind the black road, behind the great meadow

They are already in a mist, like a mist

Everybody already follow time, like a plough

What a heavy steps eternity haves!

Behind the black road, behind the great meadow

Such free and young

Is it real that I already follow time, like a plough?!

What I will plough? What a field I will sow?

Behind the black road, behind the great meadow

Is it real that I’m in a mist too, like a mist

And I already follow time, like a plough?