My son is like his father shamelessly ,
He also eyed and fair-skinned ,
I often looked at him , do not believe
What is my son, that I am a mother to him .
And I'm afraid that the similarity is no accident ,
What time will put everything in place ,
And a woman like me, black-haired ,
He will also explain something .
She said, nodding , listen to it ,
Will remain in the seat contour shoulders,
And, too, just as I used to ,
All will remember his words.
Words , too, had an ulterior motive -
Only one line of the middle of the sheet ,
And I long ago they forgot :
" Darling, you too swarthy ."
And yet , only time will judge them ,
Only one time only , but not for me,
And if he leaves the woman ,
Shake shoulders - say , well, well .
A woman left alone
And will be called " ex-wife "
And that's because a thing - I bear a grandson ,
Which will also be like him .
