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To Mother

 In the old Strauss waltz for the first time 
We had listened to your quiet call, 
Since then all the living things are alien 
And the knocking of the clock consoles. 

We, like you, are gladly greeting sunsets, 
And are drunk on nearness of the end. 
All, with which on better nights we're wealthy 
Is put in the hearts by your own hand. 

Bowing to a child's dreams with no tire. 
(Only crescent looked in them indeed 
Without you)! You have led your kids past 
Bitter lifetime of the thoughts and deeds. 

From the early age the sad one's close to us, 
Laughter bores and home we left behind.. 
Our ship not in good times left the harbor 
And it sails by will of every wind! 

Azure isle of childhood is paling, 
On the deck of ship we stand alone. 
It appears, oh mother, to your daughters 
You've left an inheritance of woe.

Poem by Marina Tsvetaeva
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