Текст песни
The barley bends its head before the blade
The last July light settling on the field
Tomorrow we begin what summer made
And take the first of everything it yields
August eve, August eve
One more night before the cutting starts
Let the golden dark believe
That nothing ends, that nothing falls apart
Our grandmother would walk the rows at dusk
And lay her hand against the tallest sheaf
She'd say the grain remembers what it was
Before the seed, before the root, before the leaf
We are the daughters of the blade and soil
We learned the harvest song before we spoke
Every summer ends in honest toil
And every sheaf is someone's heart that broke
August eve, August eve
One more night before the cutting starts
Let the golden dark believe
That nothing ends, that nothing falls apart
