The Elementary Teacher

Long ago, my friends cheerful,

We said goodbye to our school,

But every year we return to our class;

In the garden the birch sites trees

Greet  all us with bows at entry,

And the school waltz plays again for us.

Here just as very little brood

With pencil cases and thin books

We entered and sat in rows available.

Here we completed twelve even grades,

Here  we read the word "MOTHERLAND"

For the first time, syllable by syllable.

To the sounds of the flowing waltz,

I remembered the glorious years,

The beloved and dear that places,

And you, with your graying hair,

Bending our notebooks overver

My dear old teacher...Your face…

Winters and springs have rushed away,

We have long since become adults O.K,

But we remember our school days by heart.

They fly along interplanetary paths,

They sail across bleu stormy seas,

Out of  beloved former students cohort.

But wherever we may be all,

We have not forgotten you in soul,

As sons do not forget their mother.

You are our eternal youth of us,

Simple and heartfelt as glass,

My first truly  teacher curator!