All the times and the years and eras ago Everything tends to go to the warms from the storms. Why these birds to the north are so anxious to go If the birds meant to fly to the south by all norms. Itís their honor, they donít need, with the eminence. Ice will break on the wings and theyíll fly; And then they will discover birdís happiness As award for the daring to try. Why couldnít we live life cheap, why couldnít we fall asleep? What threw us on the path at a very high speed? We didnít see at this point Northern lights from our keep. Everywhere they are rare - and all prices exceed. Itís all quiet - only seagulls like lightings. With the air we feed them from hands. And for silence a definite earning Will be sound which will fly through the lands. For how long did we see only crystal white dreams? Other shades disappeared in storms and in snow. We are blind for so long, from the white and snow gleams. But weíll see from dark strip of the land just below. Our voice will get free from the silence, Our weakness like shadow will thaw, And reward for our nights of the hopelessness Will be limitless day on the shore. North and spirit, and faith - and the borderless land, Mudless snow, like long life lived without a lie. And up here no ravens will peck our eyes Because here itís too cold for a raven to fly. Those who did not believe in mad prophecies; Did not stop for the rest even once, As reward for their loneliness Ought to meet at the end someone.
© Dmitriy Karabash. Translation, 2004