To start from His immaculate conception,
The Savior sees the world, it stays the same,
Until the agony and crucifixion:
To our mothers, we are joy and pain.
Both in the song the nightingale begins,
And in the poems of Kobzar the Greatest
There is no such mystery within
As in the lullabies we’ve heard in cradles.
The mother gives the heartiest embraces!
Do not forget, you, Sasha and Andrey:
In any shaggy rags, or Easter dresses,
To our mothers, we are pride and shame.
Whatever gender, citizenship, race,
Just everyone (patricians or plebeians),
From all beginnings to the final place,
To our mothers, we are hopes and tears.
Luke, Matthew, John would tell you in one breath
That only Holy Bible is supernal.
Though ages pass, one thing is still eternal:
To our mothers we are flesh and faith.
We go to school to learn, to quench the thirst
For knowledge, or we help our younger brothers,
Or introduce a girlfriend for a first:
We’re relief and strength of our mothers.
No matter, Russians, Indians, or Jews,
No matter if you live abroad, or farther -
We are the holy justice to our mothers.
Above it only stands the Godlike Truth.
All sons in our world go their own way,
Their path of love, of knowledge and conviction,
But even rising from the crucifixion,
To our mothers, we are joy and pain.
...
...... Перевод "Мы боль и радость наших матерей"
........................ Ардашев Андрей