by Digital
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by Digital
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Mother, your children are like birds,
Their wings have fluttered into the distance.
Mother, to the bright and native chamber,
Soon we shall return once more.
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Verse 1 For as long as I can remember, The windows always glowed for me, In the room filled with quiet spring, And embroidered towels on the wall. In that sacred, peaceful chamber, A child’s heart would read and know Shevchenko’s kind and watchful eyes, And golden patterns in a row. Chorus Mother, your children