Mark Lisyansky

The birds have just waked me up, loud,
They said it is time to leave bed.
The used the same usual “route”,
That used my kind mother for that.

At first, they all were very sorry –
They hated to wake me, it seems,
And flew from my windows to morning,
With thin cautious ring through my dreams.

They made few a circle over cherries,
Returned to my room in a string,
And silence of gardens of fairies,
Was brought on their merciful wings.

Then silence at once was burst out,
And these kind adverts of sunshine,
Sang their bright song – very loud…
And I have no mother of mine. 


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2001