Jan Skácel - Where our mothers go

Jan Skácel - Where our mothers go
(Kam odcházejí maminky)

And I know where our mothers go,
in July they will begin to ramble
at first but a little and during the day,
so as not to darken.
Then they are absent for a long, long time,
they were far away.
They say that once upon a time
lived a blind blacksmith in their home.
And that everyone once threw a stone.
They are limping a little like wounded birds.
One day we must go and look for our mother
in the night grass. By the morning we reach
a small gate overgrown with weed.
There stands up dewed
in old man's beard a strange childhood.
We meet a girl who we know from somewhere.
I would like to ask, but I am not allowed.