...

Four women are sitting on the bench
And looking very far..
They are like wall, strong.
Whatever I do, I know, I have four women standing by.
The oldest is like winter, white,
White hair, wrinkles on the face, and eyes sky blue.
She doesn't smile much, doesn't talk a lot, she listens.
People she blessed returned from war,
Because her word that means a lot,
I heard, it will be how she says.
Another woman, spring, about something happy,
Few stories, jokes, few smiles
And you are hers, and can't deny.
She was a doctor for almost sixty years,
Everything is going to be fine,
That's all her favourite words.
And here autumn, number three,
Her family was from aristocrats,
All gone with revolution winds,
She, her children, grandchildren don't know anything,
One picture that was left.
Green eyes, auburn hair, fair skin,
Whatever, say what you want, she says,
I was born in freedom.
Summer, the fourth, kind, warm, short and always happy:
My baby, who are a child or grown man,
My baby, no one can touch my baby..
Four women.