Mother
Czestochowa -- Wilenska
Fatima -- Lourdes
However I call you
Always in motherhood you are the same

Good and Merciful Mother

You give the butterfly on the meadow
And the birds in the high clouds
Tears of dew on the petals of the roses
Happy days and nights of heavy stars

To you the nightingales in the lilac trees sing the psalms
And the trout in the silver streams dance
The echo from the rocks carries your name far
When the waterfall rings for prayer

And I -- shy singer in the chorus
For your glory, Mother, in hymns for the rest of the earth
Carry the poem
Like a bouquet of herbs from the September meadow

                                                              ------Unknown