The war was going. Men were fighting.

Women were carrying food to soldiers day a

nd night, nursing the injured. In the village only old people and children remai
ned.
One old man took an old plough and started sharpening it, mending it while singi
ng something. His wife said to him with annoyance:
You have a stone heart! Your sons joined a deadly battle, the village is in mour
ning. Your comrades are thinking about the fate of the village, and you, knowing
this, are mending the plough and singing a song! If someone would ask, whom are
you trying for, what would you say? Tomorrow the enemy will come here, they wil
l kill you and us too, and they will take your plough.
Woman, what are you talking? They will kill us, but not the plough. I m building
ot destroying. The world is resting on this plough: if we survive, we will need
the plough, and if we die, maybe the love for labour will awaken in those who wi
ll take it. Maybe even I will be blessed. We don t know, what is what in this worl
d.