Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
12h
A runner turned around — in his old age
He still takes part in every race.
His life has shrunk to such a small stage,
Almost each fool a fool in place.

So simple it seems, this life's creation,
But all that's left is narrowness, nonsense, and dust.
For it's like lying in a state of comatose sensation,
In dreams, only misery and fear are just.


In Russian:

Бегун повёрнутый — под старость
Участвует в забегах он.
Вся жизнь скукожилась на малость.
Почти что каждый мудозвон

Такой простой. Творенья кроме,
Иное узость, чушь и прах,
Ведь так находишься как в коме,
А в сне убожество и страх.
Written by
Igor Vykhovanets  58/M/Moldova
(58/M/Moldova)   
  27
   Sadia
Please log in to view and add comments on poems