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The village was, dying between two valleys,
Whoever leaves it in the morning will not return until evening, and whoever leaves it in the evening will never return.
Since I left at the first dawn, I am still confused about my situation.
When I left and crossed the border, I was surprised by everyone I left behind.
They greeted me and they blamed me, why did you leave?
My answers were honest.
I said: I told you that I intend to leave and you were saying not to leave.
My old neighbor said: When we saw your empty house, my heart sank and I called, hurry up and leave. I don't know why I felt lonely and short of breath.
And the village left with me, as you can see, but our fields did not leave, and this saddens me, my dear neighbour.
When the second parting began between us, they went away,
And they were cut off from us
It was said that they melted in their alienation
And it was said that they vanished in the country of snow,
As for me, the tears of my eyes dance, I turn over the pictures whose colors are fading day by day,
The books and my papers that I left I feel are slowly disintegrating, and it hurts.
She left the village, but she did not leave me.
I left my child there, who is still fighting the cliff.
I left my poem behind a slightly open door, and she looked at me as I left, I bore her pain, I ache for them
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