When you read in the newspapers
About an eruption of a volcano in Sicily,
About two entire villages being buried
In Nicaragua, in Chile or in India;
When you read in the newspapers
You ask yourself why?
Why is it that the farmers go back
Just to the slopes that betrayed them?
Why don’t they run from there,
And look for a safer place,
Where they could, finally, live in peace
Once and forever?
After all once every few years
- that’s what exactly is written in the newspapers-
The lava will erupt from the mountain again
And will threaten to bury the entire village.
Why do they insist to return?
Why don’t they abandon the village
Once and forever!?
Sometimes, you meet a tourist,
And he does ask: tell me please, why -
Why do you insist to live
Just at the opening of a volcano?
After all it’s possible to find in the word
Quiet corners, without smoke and noise,
And a steady and good land
Which won’t shake under your feet.
Why is it that you don’t move from here,
And look for safer place,
Where you could, finally, live in peace
Once and forever?
After all once every few years
- that’s what exactly is written in the newspapers-
The lava erupts again from the mountain
And threatens again the entire village.
Why do you so insist,
Why don’t you abandon the village
Once and forever?
And then “suddenly” – you understand them:
The farmer upon the Chimborazo,
And the mother on the Fujisan,
And the child on the Vesuvius.
They too, surely know that in the world are
Corners quieter than the volcano,
And the land more solid than the one,
Where the houses of their ancestors stood.
They too, probably, could move from there,
And look for a safer place,
Where they could, finally, live in peace
Once and forever.
But they do stick to the mountain’s slopes,
And wait perhaps, perhaps tomorrow?
And hope for the day, which will come,
When the mountain will be quiet after it’s rage
And then on the black basalt,
How then will the green grass bloom
Once and forever!