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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...

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...

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...

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...

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.

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.

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...

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...

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.