I was born in the chora.
And I grew up,
Still not having sorrow, -
The star scattering
Twinkled me,
To me the sun shone
By the rays.
The bended
To my cradle,
Mother sang whispered-
And sleepy
To her the blue spruce echoed,
The green pine
Echoed.
And the shadows,
Hided in the corner,
Was trembling
From the light shines,
And the passion
The sonorous blizzards has out
By the fanny dance
Hede.
And the night was retreated
Turning pale,
In the some unquiet alarms
And the dream come to me
As to the moon
By the lacteal'm I walking
By the road.
Ah, childhood,
Where are you rushed,
Well, what would we rest
Together?
How often then I remember
The mother silent song.
And the dream stubbornly-
I go by the Way of the Lacteal,
Here the chor already seen
And mom
To me runs out
To meet!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem