At Night Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova

At night somebody would knock at my window,
A disobedient dream would grind my soul below
Is it you the rain weeping, with the head banging?
The sharer of my grieves, come home, I'm alone.,

Behind my door there is a whisper -the eye,
I would peep through it to see the dating color.
My dear wind - the girl, whose honor was stolen.
Come on, now, let me plate your curly hair,

The tears would no longer come out running now
My glance would be coming dim, dark on the way.
My missing has turned into a hungry bird now,
It would clue my heart and run away every day.