Alive And Dead Poem by Igor Balatsky

these lonely people all around you
they once were children
each of them
and now
they have the kids and grandkids
of their own
although, you know
it doesn't really matter
how old they've been
just take a look at their faces -
and you will see a child inside them
the stony time will spare no one
old age is coming on apace
the ways of fate are so inscrutable
and both old and youth - some day
they all will be the little children
once again
a son may once become his father's dad
a daughter once may bear her own mom
each time i gaze into the eyes of eld
i watch a little kid she used to be
or will become some day
who knows?
that hale old man
who's talking to a gravestone
he seems to be insane, you know
but now
he's talking to his dear wife:
she's still alive for him
and beautiful
and young
he came to her
to share some good news
about children
as if he thinks the stone can hear him
it can indeed
because some speechless stones
are more alive
and they could tell much more than
most of us
in our busy lives
in which it only seems to us
that we are living
yet anyway, some day
each body - ignorant or saint -
will bloom as camomiles and dandelions
and blood will turn into the scarlet poppies
and yellow daffodils
and bluebells
will toll for someone
they have never heard about
and evergreen scirocco
that never cares even two straws
will sing his tune in dry bamboo
and sigh in fluffy feather-grass
and play with weeping willows' bridal veils