My Pray (Auth. Yanka Kupala) Poem by Swiatlanka Zniczka

I will be praying with all of my heart,
With my crucified soul I constantly beg
For black lots with their snowy and stormy sound
To never go crazy above beloved land.

I will be praying to the clear sun,
And shelter the poor orphans from heavy wind.
While pleasantly walking across the wheat fields
I will more than often come over the mist.

I will be praying to black thunder clouds
Which savagely fly above us at bad time
To make them feel strong pain of pitiful needies,
To stop their sending hailstorms and all hums.

I will be praying to stars and complain
About their dissipation so often from eyes
Cause I heard if one falls out of the sky
Then someone is tend to asleep for always.

I will be praying to fields with my energy
To urge them to pay with the harvest for work,
To make all these canted homes grow only richer,
To show our nation their dreams became thuth.

I will be praying with all of my heart,
With my crucified soul I constantly beg
For black lots with their snowy and stormy sound
To never howl over beloved land, over me.