Так написала про маму. Рассказала, я думаю, даже лучше чем ожидала. Думала всё с карточек читать буду, а получился довольно таки не плохой "ай конктакт". Ниже помещаю мою работу. Ксати, придумала я её на русском. Когда о маме думаю, всегда на русском а не на английском, даже когда пишу на инглише. Так вот, пришлось попереводить мне сегодня утречком.

Не думаю, что я отдала должное маме в этой писанине. Но всё же... Она заслуживает намного большего. Главное что это с любовью.

Да в конце я прочитала мой стих маме, который многие уже наверное читали(если читали мою "поезию". так вот в "поезии" он в оригинале на русском, а это такой перевод на скорую руку с ошибками, но я немного по ходу дела исправляла когда делала презентацию перед классом.)



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My mother’s undying legacy: strength in the midst of sorrow

The year of 2007 is a year of reflections and of reunions for me. Next summer I will go to my birth city to visit all the places dear to me and to meet all the people who have imprinted a part of themselves in me. Most of all I want to see the little village where I grew up with my mother by my side.

My mother was born in the middle of WWII in Europe, in September of 1942. The first child of the new family is named Aleksandra. Three brothers and a sister follow after the war. Her little sister was sick and died at the age of 7. Mama told us about her last days when she was sitting by the window so frail and sweet. She loved her little sister dearly. War and the hardships that follow make children grow up faster. Sorrow either drowns us or makes us strong. Strength in the midst of sorrow. My mother is a woman with a strong yet gentle character.

She was the oldest in her family and was very responsible. When time came for her to marry she was the best homemaker. Mama knew how to take care of children. She learned early on by taking care of her younger siblings. When her own children came sorrow was lingering near by. She has lost 3 little boys over a period of about 10 years. Each was no older than 2 years old. The doctors couldn’t explain their deaths clearly but it had something to do with the vaccine shots babies get. My mother went on to protect her other children and didn’t allow us to have those shots. She lived through sorrow again. She held herself strong. Strong in the midst of sorrow.

Mother had 11 children born. Eight are living right now. She took good care of her little children. When she had 3 to 5 children she was working part as a seamstress. She is very good at sewing. Mother made a lot of out clothing by herself. Later her two daughters would follow in her footsteps and become good seamstresses too. Mama also was working on a little garden and tending livestock that they had at that time. She was very busy with big burdens weighing on her. Our dad was working as a city bus driver. The family had enough, and I would say plenty, for happiness. They were happy. Mama took care of them. After a while she had to quit her job to be able to take care of her home better.

When it came time for me to be born, mama was 45. The government made the family move that year from a house into an apartment. But mother couldn’t live without land; cold stones were not the type of home she was used to. So they bought a little house at the very feet of the mountains of our little city. That is where I spent my childhood with my mommy. All of the other kids were old enough to go to school. The sister before me is older by 5 years. Even though I was the youngest of 8 children, most of the time I was only with my mom. She had a garden and little livestock again. This was her thing. Everything seemed perfect to me. But now I understand how hard it was for mama to manage everything, to take care of her family and to provide for us from what she planted and from the livestock. Her work was very hard. We had to walk a lot. Especially when going into the city to the bus stop or to the pasture to milk our cows. I saw the intensity of her work, but as a child I did not understand it.

When I will visit our little house jammed between mountains, next August it will be 10 years since I last looked into her face. Another place that I will come to lies near by. It is about 15 minute walk from the house. When mama died of a sudden stroke, in August of 1997, I tasted sorrow. Looking back on her life, I see her legacy. A red string is running through her lifetime. There are invisible words written on the string. As the years have passed my heart became able to read what the string says. It says: “Strength in the midst of sorrow”.

Her legacy is with us. Mama taught us a lot through her life: love, strength, care. She is alive in our hearts. Her legacy keeps her alive.

There is s poem that I have written 5 years after losing my mom. It was originally penned in the language of my mother because it is for her. I have tried to translate the meaning into English. I would like to end with the poem for my mother, Aleksandra.





REMEMBERING…





Tender gaze, caring hands,

Quiet sigh, meek soul…

“My dear, you had so many sorrows…”—

I’m remembering mommy in the quietness



I used to think that for you

Nothing was impossible, my dear.

I am so sorry, do you hear me mama,

For making you feel bad when you lived.



I remember your gaze a lot:

Sweet, kind, sometimes funny.

When I was small, everything was a fairy tale;

You were the dearest in it.



You were my hero, mama.

You gave away everything for us,

All your love, soul, until the end.

Oh, how you loved me…



You know, mama, I’m dreaming

Of looking into your eyes, my dear…

To tell you everything, how I miss you,

How sometimes can’t understand you leaving…



I want so much to hear your voice…

Or just listen how you’re breathing.

It’s sad without you here…

Time changes me so much



But it has no power to change the love.

I’m sure that I will see you again.

Your features are erasing from my memory

But your love will stay in it forever.