So with a birth there was the output -
The world of feels had splitted into halves:
From mother's body - only a warm flow,
From father's hands - only the cold of weif.
I cry without mind and selfless
Between two sources, tied together.
Let's, Fate, unwrap the roll with interest
To that newborn life and forever!
But beforehand you should concern
To write with your hand the figures rugged,
A year as the date of birth,
And name of motherland as Russia.
- -
In russian and translation into bulgarian
by Krasimir Georgiev
http: //www.stihi.ru/2013/03/23/40
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem