Chalo milke dafna detehain.

Chalo milke dafna detehain.

Let it be buried,

unknown, unsung like an unwanted child,

in the darkness of the night, 

before we change our mind.

With no entries made in the registry, 

and the keeper looking away,
we will be lucky if no one comes our way.

With the breaking of the rays, 

we can wear our smile without fear,

refuse to recognize that unmarked mound,

 which the keeper would have cared.

It would then just be a number, 

a date not to remember,

we would go about living our lives of exemplary perfection,

with the sound of tiny footsteps following us forever.