The .embroidered towel after Andre Malishko

My dear mom , you didn't sleep at night shadow,

And you took me to the fields on the edge of the  hamlet.

And  on a distant journey you show me off at dawn,

And you gave me a towel embroidered for fortune as yet.

Let a dewy path bloom on it for a while,

And green meadows, and nightingale groves,

And your always faithful mother's affectionate smile,

And your sad, good mothering the eyes.

I will take that towel, spread it out like fate mine

In the quiet rustle of grass, in the chirping of oaks,

And on that towel everything painfully familiar will come to life —

And childhood, and separation, and true love stocks…