Nikolay Grebnev

There are three sacred men’s songs, so far,
In them their joy and woe ever settled.
The first is brighter than the others are – 
A mother sings it sitting by a cradle.

The second song is too the mothers’ one:
While gently touching cheeks as white as snow,
They sing it o’er a coffin of a son…
And the third song – all songs, except these both. 


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, June, 2001