On Dispatch

So many tears of farewell cried, mother, and father jokingly told me not to think that it would be like that, to walk on water. "Why are you doing this" - the eyes ask what the lips would never say. Isn't your mother's song rocking here, and isn't everything that built you here ... The blood has gone crazy! She parted with her bosom, with that, her land, which in the evening smelled of the past and of grandfather's tobacco. Autumn is now, my dears and best, see the storks have already flown away. In the spring I will return with them, with a martenitsa mom to decorate me again. To hear the stream come again - no one has written a more beautiful song yet. To hear the swallows, which with songs again build broken nests. To hear the wind that carries the scent of lilac and freedom. I go blind. The stream, the nests, the wind - they are gone. I'm starting to hate everything here to the point of agony. I don't see our past, not a road. And it burns me, eats away at me. I'm dying. I am leaving to save Bulgaria, to keep it whole and loved, here on the left, where flesh beats from your flesh, mother. But I swear I'll be back. As soon as you see the storks in the sky, playing and rejoicing, taking in the native air in their chests and hearing them rattle, come out in front of our house, Mom, and don't stop waiting for me. And your father, go down to the cellar, pour the hot brandy - for a powerful wedding where you collect it. And raise a toast. Only then did Dad cry for all those who, like you, are waiting for the storks to bring their child. And put their hearts back in place how they take in native air in their chests and you hear them rattling, come out in front of our house, mom, and don't stop waiting for me. And your father, go down to the cellar, pour the hot brandy - for a powerful wedding where you collect it. And raise a toast. Only then did Dad cry for all those who, like you, are waiting for the storks to bring their child. And put their hearts back in place how they take in native air in their chests and you hear them rattling, come out in front of our house, mom, and don't stop waiting for me. And your father, go down to the cellar, pour the hot brandy - for a powerful wedding where you collect it. And raise a toast. Only then did Dad cry for all those who, like you, are waiting for the storks to bring their child. And put their hearts back in place