тайна времён бывало смолоду среда как ясень пнями...

mystery of the times

It happened in his youth Wednesday
like ash stumps
It was always surrounded
other days

you wave with a neighbor in the second
plesnot bratelnik
you see the Friday times
is Monday

not so tuesdays alone
but suddenly in old age
poured out other days
Wednesday remained

sat drinking without harm
years flew
why are gone and where
all days of the week

we are standing on an island
we have no salvation
not a brother with his vermouth
or Sunday

(Alexey Tsvetkov)