From Giulty Witout Guilt by Alexander Osrofski

Gentlemen, I drink to the mothers,

who abandon their children  blater!

Let them be in joy and happiness, idylls,

and let their path be strewn with roses and lilies.

Let no one and nothing poison their present joyful existence

with  constant suffering much for nothing.

Let no one and nothing remind them once

of the bitter lot of unfortunate orphans.

Why disturb them? Why disturb their peace?

They did everything they could by chance,

everything they knew, in the spring

for their dear child beginning.

They cried over him, as much as their ability

kissed him more or less tenderly in reality

And farewell, my dear, live, shame mine!

And it would be better, they say, that you would die.

This is true, that is true: lavish

to die is the best thing that can be wished

for this new guest in the world to misfortune

But not everyone has such luck fortune.

And there are mothers, who are more sensitive;

they do not limit themselves to tears massive,

but hang some gold qtrinket on their child  neck -

wear and remember me, poor thing of wreck.

And what should a poor child remember in shame believes?

Why should he remember? Why leave him on his grief

a permanent memory of his misfortune and shame busy

Already without that, everyone who is not lazy,

reminds him that he was thrown under the fence abrouded.

And do they know how sometimes this unfortunate,

scolded one often sheds tears on his mother's gift:

where, it says, are you rejoicing now, do answer  swift!

Shed at least one tear on me! Come back, just!

It will be easier for me to bear my suffering, my path

After all, these souvenirs burn my aching chest.