The Foggy Morning

Foggy morning, gray sorrowful morning.

The fields are sad, covered with snowdrifts.

Reluctantly you remember the past old time clearly,

You will also remember faces long forgotten already.

 

You will remember the abundant passionate speeches,

Glances, so greedily, so timidly caught, once,

The first meetings, last farewell meeting,

Beloved sounds of quiet deep voices.

 

You will remember the separation with a strange smile,

You will remember many things from your distant native,

Listening to the incessant murmur of dully wheels now,

Looking thoughtfully into the wide deep sky occasionally…