On the road stands a tree,
it stands bent and deserted,
All the birds of that tree
have flown away.
Turn toward the west, turn toward the east,
And the rest - turn toward the south,
And the tree is left alone
abandoned to the storm.
I say to momma--"Listen,
If you don't stand in my way,
then, one and two,
I'll quickly become a bird...
I'll sit in the tree
And lull it
during the winter and comfort it
With a lovely tune.
And momma says, "No, child,"
And weeps bitter tears -
God forbid, in the tree
you might freeze.
So I say, "Momma, it's a waste
of your lovely eyes,
Because before you know it,
I'll be a bird."
And momma cries: - Itzik, my Crown,
As God would want,
take a scarf with you,
Lest you catch cold.
"Put on your galoshes,
It will be a severe winter.
And take your fur hat, too.
Woe is me!
"And take your warm underwear,
put it on, foolish child,
Lest you become a guest
among the dead...
I lift my wing, but it's hard...
Too much, too many things
Has momma put on
her weak little fledgling.
I look sadly straight forward
into my momma's eyes,
Her love did not allow me
to become a bird...
On the road stands a tree,
it stands bent and deserted,
All the birds of that tree
have flown away.