I have nothing against times,
But yesterday was nineteen-twenties
And my grandfather was a springing lad,
Just in decade of years he'd gone- sad,
His grave daily grows tulip
My sorrows train a worship...
...before the fall of September, I will be forty,
Just ago in stupor, I believed forever in twenty,
I've lived through lonely eighties and nineties,
Relieved, now, I am living by grace of freebies
Yet again, I lost friends and an acquaintance
Over an argument about truth over substance
When I'm right luck calls goose for cooking,
I live on strict times, I criticize fate for fooling,
Past passes by me then gazes away timidly,
I write verse to a friend who never read loudly
I close my eyes; it is still raining,
My shattered soul is still mourning.
..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem