Is the earth, as they say, burnt and dried? Will a seed, as they say, never sprout? Has the earth, as they say, really died? No! Itís taken a lengthy time-out! Mother Earth will forever give birth, Its maternity isnít a fiction! Donít believe that they burnt down the earth, No! Itís blackened from grief and affliction. Trenches, running like scars back and forth... Bleeding guts black shell-craters expose... They are open nerves of the earth, Which unearthly unhappiness knows. It will stand wars and grief - any thing! Itís not crippled, though booted and looted... Donít believe that the earth doesnít sing, That itís quieted down, diluted! No, itís singing as loud as it can From a trench, from a wound, from a hole! Since the earth is the soul of Man, Boots cannot trample down the soul!    
© George Tokarev. Translation, 2003
Edited by Robert Titterton