A flock of seagulls gets wet in the rain,
Beneath the grey sky, outside my windowpane.
They feel as sad as I do, it appears:
Life starts its "autumn marathon" of years,
In its familiar, endless rush and strain.
Money has turned to dust,
And means nothing anymore.
And from that Great Love, just rust —
Just some small change, and the store
Of days that we can't live again,
Just memories that remain.
Everyone suddenly disappeared,
Those with whom we started life's swift race.
Some have rocketed ahead,
Some have fallen from the pace.
I guess it's finally my turn instead
To sum up all my wandering space.
Can't say it was all in vain —
The stars shone for us, that's true.
And warm seas embraced us again,
And we walked through storms for you,
Toward our cherished dreams,
Carrying love within our chests, it seems.
Our memory erases days and faces,
The pain of lived-out years fades far away.
The autumn rain won't last in these cold places,
And the wet flock of seagulls will carry my sorrow away.
And I'll continue my "autumn marathon" race,
As soon as my phone rings, in its usual place.
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 6:05 PM UTC
A flock of seagulls gets wet in the rain,
Beneath the grey sky, outside my windowpane.
They feel as sad as I do, it appears:
Life starts its "autumn marathon" of years,
In its familiar, endless rush and strain.
Money has turned to dust,
And means nothing anymore.
And from that Great Love, just rust —
Just some small change, and the store
Of days that we can't live again,
Just memories that remain.
Everyone suddenly disappeared,
Those with whom we started life's swift race.
Some have rocketed ahead,
Some have fallen from the pace.
I guess it's finally my turn instead
To sum up all my wandering space.
Can't say it was all in vain —
The stars shone for us, that's true.
And warm seas embraced us again,
And we walked through storms for you,
Toward our cherished dreams,
Carrying love within our chests, it seems.
Our memory erases days and faces,
The pain of lived-out years fades far away.
The autumn rain won't last in these cold places,
And the wet flock of seagulls will carry my sorrow away.
And I'll continue my "autumn marathon" race,
As soon as my phone rings, in its usual place.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WT7qJYc0pwQ
original poem: https://proza.ru/2025/10/09/1338
