Ольга Живойкина - Мамины песни
текст песни

Somewhere out there, far, far away—
Beyond the misty years—
I drank warm, fresh milk
And ate my mother’s pies.
My mother was a needlewoman,
Renowned for her skillful hands:
She embroidered, she knitted, she wove—
Always singing a cheerful song.

And Mom sang us beautiful songs,
And like birds, they soared over Russia.
Within these songs lies the warmth of a mother’s boundless love;
Even now, they warm my very soul.

From my mother, I learned
To knit, to embroider, and to sew;
Between her and me, a lacy thread
Was woven like delicate filigree.
And for her granddaughters, Mom became
A wonderful, loving grandmother;
She knitted woolen socks for them all
And baked them fluffy pancakes.

And Mom sang us beautiful songs,
And like birds, they soared over Russia.
Within these songs lies the warmth of a mother’s boundless love;
Even now, they warm my very soul.

It grieves me that time flies by so ruthlessly;
Our mother is no longer with us now.
Yet memory tenderly preserves
Those moments from the years gone by.
Everything takes its natural course;
Our lives continue on.
My mother’s songs, with their magical warmth,
Spread gently through my soul.

For Mom sang us beautiful songs,
And like birds, they soared over Russia.
Within these songs lies the warmth of a mother’s boundless love;
Even now, they warm my very soul.