Of the Reapers and the Field Maiden
The highest noon and the heat of the Summer.
The reapers - mowing field of golden corn.
The scythes are shining in the midday sun.
The flames of Svarog - pouring from the skies.
All of a sudden something weird is happening:
The whole vicinity falls into silence.
Among the reapers, dressed in shiny linen,
The horror maiden stands, field ghost, Południca.
The scythes are falling on the sunburnt soil,
The men are falling, soulless, to the ground.
And not a word do they utter when dying
And not a single bird does sing above them.
It's better to avoid the field at noon.
When you can hear no sound 'round you at all
It means the maiden's walking very near
And all she'd bring to you would be eternal silence.
30th of July 2002