Again dreamed of his Father's house
And the heart once again ached
Like I'm with my family in him.
Living as I used to.

It was so easy for the soul
Spring, with orchard
Since morning-fresh milk
And mom, with dad next.

Homemade soup and rolls,
Yes, in the pot the potatoes
Languishing until red, in the oven
With gravy, a little bit.

And mom's berry compote,
From fresh-sweet cherries
The ambrosial smell of the whole year
For two miles was heard.

Behind the house, five hundred meters,
In fun and games
Lay the lake in the meadows,
In green-juicy herbs.

There was a lot of fish in it,
In the water,warmed by the spring
How to live well three,
In that life"dressed up."..

Everything will run, will take place in the end
Winter, spring and summer
Solomon on the ring,
It's written...

My father is not here, thirty years.
Our garden is overgrown with raspberries
And the lake, as a small footprint,
Covered with viscous mud...

Me and mom sitting by the window,
All look into the distance humbly,
Where is the happiness of sleep
Dissipated silently.

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.