Mother’ prayer

Category: Poetry
Evening comes to the Tatar village; the magic bright moon is in the sky
Under its light all seems silver: houses, roofs, fields nearby
Very silent. Working people fell asleep because they’re tired
From the sunrise till the sunset they are working very hard
Any sound heard around, even barking of the dogs
But in one house in the suburb a little trembling light still burns
An old woman in that house has knelt down on a prayer rug
And her soul is soaring now very high in heavens’ hug
She has raised her hands in prayer and her wish is only one
She is whispering with devotion asking God to bless her son
Bitter tears are slowly rolling down her wrinkled face
Do you really suppose that God will not shed His grace?