I waked up once and saw the morning born. I overslept the dawn of childhood. In the maturity morning I shall wake up still. The morning of anility I do not want to see. I’ve seen young morning - Reflection of my face. A ditch looked like a dimple. Lips-passages whispered farewell. Cheeks of fields and hump of nose imbibed coolness. Eyes of the horizon were abysmal. Eyebrows-swifts were sticking to heavenly brow. Cloud of forelock was perfecting the face. Only without the sun-earring, Hanging on the tree-ear, There would be no daybreak in the morning of the Poem. English translation by A. Besedin