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