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The Mother's plait

Why you, guelder rose, have all your branches swayed?
Is the dew too moisty, or the bloom has weight?
Why you, dear mother, have your hair so grayed?
I remember had you beautiful gold plait.
 
When she were sleepless, when she had to worry,
It was endless journey, bitter gift from fate.
She would go to roadside, gather all her sorrow,
Braid it all together with her silver plait.
 
Fog is creeping valleys, goes to meadows down,
Fog makes dreams much deeper, covers all with veil.
Hey you, path so endless! Turn again to mama!
So her plait could look then not so grayish pale.
 
Hey you, path so endless! Turn again to mama!
So her plait could look then not so grayish pale.