Holdor Volcano



            Homesickness


  (Translated by Alec Vagapov)




The swaying poplars and willows, 
The house, as green as can be,
The rice fields, the pathways, the river,   
They"re all so familiar to me.



Maybe,  migrant birds hover there,
Circling round and losing their rights.
The apricot outside the house 
Is now firewood for warming cold nights.



I see dad in his worn out  skull-cap,
Hear the voices resounding at night 
Rattling bucket, the smoking  hearth and 
Lilac sunset shedding the light.



On the waves of the fruitful stratums,
Like an anchor, glistens  the plough, 
Up on high over fields shines  the moon 
Forming huge round circle, and how!..



I"m nostalgic, I"m  homesick,  my friends,
The wind tears the grass, like hair, 
As if mom , like she did in my childhood,
Were looking and calling me there.




December 30th, 2011.
10:52 a.m.
Toronto, Canada