My mother, mamma, dear mother,
teach me my mother
how to call the unloved
-Oh sit my daughter behind the table
and call your unloved grey falcon.
It is better for me, my mother,
to eat bitter wormwood
than be together with the unloved.
It is easier for me, my mother,
to carry heavy stones
than to speak endearments to the unloved.
It is much more simpler for me, my mother
to wade across swift Danube river
than set my eyes on the unloved.
I will swim through swift river alone
and have a rest on the bank.
But with hateful groom
I will have no life.
Ukrainian folk song
Translator and Photographer Igor Marinovsky