* *
The life day by day is getting shorter,
And our lender do not closing eyes,
Bearing on a days and on a nights in his hurdgin,
All that we are debt he take from us.
Do I write nor, admire a azure high one,
All he count, scold, the exact score,
And the life is a river, and over a rough river
A bridges he burns behind my back.
And I ask: imperil lender,
Take away all the gifts of the earth,
Just do not tear suddenly till the time
The hour of the meet with the darling, my late hour.
But my arba is rolling from the mountain.
My lender do not hear the tear prayer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem