Cuckoo...cu-ckoo!... in the garden,

Cuckoo...cu-ckoo!... in the grove,

All along the springtime season

The world of trees we always rove.

Tiny birds, with gray down feathers,

And with our fearless flight,

All the trees in our forest

Know and love and see us right.

Our long songs fill the air

And the walkers pass and say:

‘Sing a joy song, little cuckoo,

Sing a song of good omen!’

Life is all sweetness and light:

Call and sing and call and sing.

Out of all sorrows in the world

We only have one suffering:

Because in our entire life

There isn’t what’s the holiest:

A cradle for a baby bird

Has never ever been our nest!...

Never has the hungry chick’s beak

Ever called our name – Never.

And we’ll never hear them calling

The sweetest word of ‘mother’!...

Translated by Monica Manolachi