Russian stove

Russian stove, like a mother,
Russian stove, like a mother,
As if doing a prayer.
The stove ignites early
The flame burns hot.

As if the sadness of falling leaves
A trumpet song is heard.
Light smoke like incense
There is a fragrance in the hut.

Bell ringing from the temple
Highlighted the gray east.
You can hear how mom is busy
Putting cast iron on a pole.

And on the fields the kids
They sniff gently, tenderly.
Oh, I have these boys
They do not sleep long nights.

Themselves once walked
So we are at night.
They ran to the stove in the morning -
To her warm bricks.

Russian stove, dear,
Since childhood I have been reaching out for you
You, like a mother from paradise,
You warm your hut in your grandfather's.