Classic Poem

My eyes are the eyes of a stranger woman,
Blue they are as the wings of a blue moth;
My mother came from a far country.

For my eyes he loved me;
Now have my tears washed away their colour.
He loves them no more.
Though I was born in the village,
In the village I am a stranger.
I will go back to the country of my mother.

All the winter I stayed alone painting eggs for Easter.
With my tears stained by my eyes
I made them a beautiful blue colour;
With the blood that had left my heart,
Scarlet I made them.
With the gold of the ring never to be worn,
I gilded them in little patterns.

My heart is empty as the shells I have painted
In the long, long winter;
Out of them will come no little life.
For me there will be no Easter
When I return to the far country of my mother.