I turn around to myself. I miss the minting to the born. And here the sky is far away, We are surprised at everything. The world does not live up to the hope, Don't knock the dawn out of the sun. Love's cries may already remain I’ll squeeze the breast of my native land. I still need so much, And I’m trying to get rid of it, otherwise it’s a gift... I'm looking for the sky! Pragna, pragna - the sky! I bring it to myself for Christmas. From the ruins I rise again To the clear world of dawning hopes, Like the blue of heaven, woven with love, My wingless spirit rises.
