whom you come in black mother,
Clear my sunshine?
Who did you get, the earth mother
Auklējumu my dear?
Saturiņicīts>
eyes no longer see that,
Feet where there will no longer run,
Hands will no longer be the embrace,
Heart will not cease to love.
Saturiņicīts>
Come on and take my life;
Returned to son, mother earth!
How to live without his genealogy
Where to now a force Rod?
Will turn black earth mother,
Quiet green velēniņa,
Vera\'s tomb as a giant wound:
The strength you need to find themselves!
Saturiņicīts>
Nature gives us immortality:
People on death turns into a flower.
Saturiņicīts>
Every field thy harsh dew of sweat,
I ear you want to weave a crown.
Saturiņicīts>
If life has burned bright flames,
Then nebēdājies, old boy,
In love, work and song
By the time neizplēn ashes.
But when once the great silence undertake
Will wish to hear me,
Or a song my dreams
And my heartbeat still sounds.
Saturiņicīts>
the time spent is not the sea,
But the sand that slips through your fingers.
How long is no longer to be riekša empty
And sand over the shedding another.
Saturiņicīts>
Aizzib life than a twinkling,
Long life as a moment it seems.
But the moments of love
How to go over the abyss.
Saturiņicīts>
White cloud of your image
Blue skies to roam,
Variable and far
And yet -
True.
Saturiņicīts>
When the dying days of the close to sunset,
You still remember the morning with a smile.
I head bending forward,
For you, Mom, kiss.
Saturiņicīts>
Pine grief rustling softly
Birch green head put.
Kamdēļ heart, you ceased, -
Yet so little under the sun IETS.
Saturiņicīts>
Friends waiting for you in vain,
Friends of the hands of flowers wilt,
We missing your warm smile;
Joy died too early.
Memory as a source of hearing -
Will it be morning or late evening,
And will live forever in the hearts
We need your bright, beloved image.
Saturiņicīts>
still prefer to walk far to the horizon
And see how plump wheat in fields.
But the black crane fall clamor,
And people look dark dziest.
Saturiņicīts>
Freezing silence has surrounded the house,
Over the life of rural mower go blunt.
You are not the nestundā gone away,
Because forever live your work done.
Saturiņicīts>
now near and far, I feel:
Only forces at work can save.
A life so beautiful and difficult,
So I can live, Mom!
Saturiņicīts>
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