Heatwave in the East

A heatwave roams the East
giant flames eat up ancient forests,
tragic Slavic air fills the lonely steppes,
dark shadows spread all over.

In the land someone dug sulks to drain the waters
In the land someone dug sulks to guide the waters
grass or hay the fields move to the rhythm of the seasons

A brother calls, we stiffen body and voice
hiding tenderness and affection,
under the cover of good measure.