The earth is ringing, 25 lively horses are going through it.
There’s a tractor driver on the Zetor, sharp eyes, sure hands.
In the sea of air an airplane, tractor drivers of vast fields.
Even the earth hurts the farmer the whipped ploughs of the fields.
The farmer worked like a dog, we’ll plough the old boundaries.
Old boundaries, old patterns, we’ll settle into the tractors.