I, as a child, had a careless growth -
as a wild sprout among beauty of nature.
with me the wind was so gentle and playful,
and dews from heaven dropped down and moistened.
And finally I have blossomed as others
petals of mine were transparent as wonders.
How could I ever be drowned in sins?
How could my thoughts – be far from higher dreams?
May be I didn’t know my own nature,
Thought: that my flower was bright and clean.
But history write its annals disgraceful:
My heart was keeping the source of a sin.
I quietly faded, the colors blurred out,
the smell of decay was different to me,
Like a white rose becomes suddenly scarlet,
That’s how the spirit survives after heat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautifully written poem, Liza. My childhood memories are idyllic. It probably wasn't as wonderful as I tend to recall but that is how I wish to recall it.