Someone was caressing the fields, caressing them,
Walking about angry and sowing songs:
Oh, give us thunder, give us a downpour! –
May the golden manes not dry up.
Someone was caressing the fields, caressing them so gently...
Clouds floated like pearls...
Their pinkness – the lips of a child!
Shadows emerged – and... the valleys wait.
Shadows passed by and brought – sorrowful moments:
Clouds floated past, strange and distant...
Dazzling tones – and boundless freedom!
Oh, someone began to cry in the field.
An ominous fate, a cruel fate.
A slim poplar laughed in the distance.
Dazzling tones – and sad cornflowers...
1915