Mother's hands

What are your labored hands, why know the stench of repairs? What are these hard hands that smell like mint and thyme?.. A bluish-green periwinkle floats quietly across them And she twists her tense face. In the fields and onions scorched by the sunny wind, And the valleys are rough—middle-aged aspen soil. So, despite the sulfur, I have to exchange the stench for wonderful light Golden sun in the clear light of the light. These labored hands... What a sweet and tender stink!.. Here is the beginning of incredible happiness, love... I’m so hungry for them, I kiss them intensely and tearfully, And I sing glory to them - to the holy mother's hands.