Who proclaimed: "It’s all burned to the core!
Now the Earth won’t grow seed from the furrow"?
Who proclaimed that the Earth is no more?
No! She’s biding her time for tomorrow.

Motherhood can’t be taken from Earth,
Just like you cannot scoop out the ocean.
Who believed that our Earth was all scorched?
No! She’s blackened from grief, from emotions.

Like incisions, the trenches run forth,
And the wounds of bomb craters are gaping.
The unearthly travails of the Earth
Are exposing her nerves that are aching.

She’ll wait out, will endure everything.
You can’t put the Earth down as a cripple!
Who proclaimed that the Earth does not sing,
That she’s silenced forever by missiles?

No! She rings, she suppresses the groans
With her body all wounded and mangled.
For the Earth is our soul to the bone,
And a soul by no boots can be trampled!

Who believed that the Earth was all scorched?
No! She’s biding her time for tomorrow.