To my father and mother's house
With a hospitable tablecloth,
With a warm word affectionate,
For the night with a good fairy tale
Invariably roll
Saxaul memory.
To my father and mother's house…
On the threshold of tenderness
In the children's serenity
As in a beige caftan,
Bound by hope,
Looks shadow smart
In the door boiled
On the threshold of tenderness…
The whole palm is hot,
The one I don't hide,
From love unsolicited
As if dusted
Soft tender crumb.
The whole palm is hot...
How to ask for time
A horse with a sharp stirrup,
A reliable steed
And in the way of the ungodly,
Tell me, is it possible?
How to ask for time…
Only and will remain
Follow the memory,
Where everything is also a tablecloth
The saxauls are rolling,
Where the tracks all converge,
And where childhood is found:
To the hospitable tablecloth
To my father's and mother's house.