Hard-working and honest
We plough the field,
Singing there and back.
We want to be careful as we separate
The loose clumps of soil,
The grave for our seeds.

By dragging both up and down
We make furrows, always turning our back on
The destination we have reached.
Dig, you ploughshare, dig!
Out in the open, the muggy weather weighs us down
But it is cool deep in the ground.

Turn your eyes to the earth,
It will become loving and homely
For us - the earth's dark womb;
For here there is no staying on - 
Once sown everything turns to dust - 
That is also our fate.

Sow, be cheerful in hope;
Graves are lying open in wait,
The fields have been cultivated;
Use the harrow and spade to cover
The falling seeds,
And then: trust in God!

God's sun sheds light,
Mild rains dampen
The sprouting green shoots.
Settle, snow, and stretch out
Your silver covering
As a protection over them!

Harvesters are going to be swaying
Where mere grains sank,
Mother Earth is faithful.
Nothing is going to be annihilated here
And decay's only role is to sift
The wheat from the chaff.

Those who have fallen asleep before us
Are slumbering in the depths,
Having been sown in their tomb;
It is going to take some more time
Before these graves sprout
And God's seed becomes standing corn!

For those in mourning for the dead,
Believe it, it is not going to last for ever
This time of sowing.
Out of the broken husk
There will be a sprouting in the valley of death,
Producing the fruit of eternity!