Текст песни Валентина Толкунова - Мама старенькая, мама маленькая

Adult children
This is for mom, a little strange
Old mom
This is probably natural.
My mother’s braids have become whitish
But behind glasses with thick lenses,
Like half a century ago,
Mom’s eyes are the same.

Mom is old, mom is small,
Hands became freckled over the years.
Mom is old, mom is small,
But she’s young with her soul.

Adult children busy forever
Rare encounters.
The old mother shares pain and anxiety only with God:
A tear rolls along a wrinkle
These tears are counted by an angel
Her important business is to pray for God for children.

Mom is old, mom is small,
Hands became freckled over the years.
Mom is old, mom is small,
But she’s young with her soul.

Mom is old, mom is small,
Hands became freckled over the years.
Mom is old, mom is small,
But she’s young with her soul.

Mother...
Mother...
But she’s young with her soul.