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I have decided that some form of therapy was a must, so I am writing it down, and I scrapped, and I made you all a nice little box to use when you think of your "other Mother"... Enjoy...
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Good night, sleep tight!!!
By the wayside stands a bent tree;
All the birds have flown away,
And the tree stands deserted.
Turn toward the west, turn toward the east,
And the rest--turn toward the south,
And the tree is abandoned to the storm.
I say to momma--"Listen,
If you don't stand in my way,
Then, one--two,
I'll quickly become a bird.
I'll sit in the tree
And lull it during the winter and comfort it
With a lovely tune."
And momma says, "No, child,"
And weeps bitter tears.
"G-d forbid, you might freeze in the tree."
So I say, "Momma, it's a waste of your lovely eyes,
Because before you know it,
I'll be a bird."
And momma cries, and says "Itzik, my Crown,
As G-d would want, take a scarf with you,
Lest you catch cold.
"Put on your galoshes,
It will be a severe winter.
And take your fur hat, too.
Woe is me!
"And wear you warm underwear, foolish child,
Lest you become a guest of the dead."
I lift my wing, but it's hard...
Too many things, too many things
Has momma put on her weak little fledgling.
I look sadly into my momma's eyes;
Her love did not allow me to become a bird.
By the wayside stands a bent tree.
All the birds have flown away,
And the tree stands deserted.