BIRTHPLACE

Here
On the meadow grass I'm sprawling
And drinking woodland breeze again.
My eyes are moist again recalling
The childhood stories I heard then.

The scent of rue...
A scythe is ringing,
Reminding me of youthful bliss.
To you, my birthplace, ever clinging,
Your soothing silences I miss.

You'll smooth my brow with wind's caresses,
Refresh my face with drops of rain
The gentle touch of your birch tresses
Will soon remove all nagging pain.

Hay shall again
Smell sweet as honey...
The village dogs will bark till dawn.
Alas, the distant traffic's humming
Bears witness that those years are gone.

I'll find a table laid with dishes
And not one glance downcast or glum.
But you'll appreciate my wishes:
It's not to feast
Or rest I've come.

I've come again to seek my yearning,
My youth inside the barn concealed,
And take away
Like bread for a journey
The wind that freely roams this field.

Translated by Lionginas Pažūsis

Bronius Mackevičius is a poet of peasant extraction. On leaving school he devoted himself to journalism. His first poems appeared in the press in 1948. Mackevičius took an advanced course in literature at the Gorky Institute of Literature in Moscow. His poetry is romantic in outlook, but manages to combine civic awareness with poetic sensitivity.