Disorders In Time. Poem by Markelov Vladimir

It’s not easy to stop the rolling time.
Maybe it’s good to me –
to lean over a clock-hand?
In the middle of the way –
to fill a sand-glass by stones?
Eatin’ the heart out while meditating …
Recollecting the past...
To adhere to a pendulum
a burden of all insults gone through
the childhood?
Or it’s easier to do nothing,
Having dissolved itself in eternity? ..
To do all it
that on my funeral
Toothless, bald schoolmates
could exclaim:
« Wow! He looks well!
Smooth skin, magnificent hair …
Doc was born with a silver spoon in his mouth! .. »
…Boneheaded!
But I shall answer them:
« No, guys! I’m so tired as all get out.
Honest to God-
I always got drunk after midnight,
I usually smoked on three packs of cigarettes a day,
empting a big cup-o-coffee…
Just keepin’ the pot boiling
by drumming in funeral orchestra,
forever swore at relatives...
And clock, at last, have ceased resisting me.
All it has bothered it»…
But guys will not hear me.