— Am I old? — I asked the youths.
— That depends. How old are you?
— Sixty-two.
— Then I guess you’re old. It’s true.
Have you seen old Lenin’s face?
— Of course. I stood beside him there,
On an armored car, in pride and grace,
Waving banners in the air.

I walk home like a dinosaur.
From the window Lena cries:
— Buy some apples from the market!
Check they have no bruised sides!

And suddenly, I’m young again,
A girl who cannot pick good fruit.
Lena’s ninety-six — and then,
Still thinks I’m young and cute.

The policeman shakes his head:
— Is Lena strong and still alive?
— Yes, — I nod. —  She’s not yet dead.
And marvel how we yet survive.

If you want to be young and bold,
And not feel like a dinosaur,
Be with slow and with the old —
Not just the age you fit before.

11.04.2025