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?