The Chariot Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

Born on the earth, what chariot we would prefer?
One, on which we'll fly like birds
Along the dusty, dirty roads?
And horses... What kind we'll select
To pull us on the vehicle to end,
When they become completely tired?

The soul is the source of will, of aspiration, of desire,
Of feeling tough and joyous, and of regret...
Splashing the feelings outwards, in one moment,
To such bright world, then we rub our eyes
To holes from the intolerable light..

Because of that the body-chariot at some time
Becomes so old...
And it can't carry further us, as in the past,
The horses-thoughts, exhausted all, which you had harnessed
In love to travelling, will pass...

And life as a lie will lie before your eyes...
Our dreams, as image (where is it?) - on secret glass...

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In russian
http: //www.stihi.ru/2011/10/17/7914