Cenotaph

(Художественный перевод "Кенотаф")

In an old meadow,
Where no a shadow,
Already covered with moss.
Sadly,
Stands a cenotaph as an epitaph.
It's simple in words:
"Here sleeps a dreamer,
Forgotten scheamer.
Stuffy,
He's in the dirt.
But he found peace,
In that which is closed.

No dates, no glory,
Only a quiet whisper.
The autumn wind,
Sang songs of his victories.
Such was the inventory,
Yet there was also a failed story.

There were wins,
More than that, chimeras.
What?
The collapse of strong barriers.
Another example is his dream,
Of being a simple courier.

Although strange thoughts,
Didn't last long.
They sped away quickly,
Like the river Don.
The news spread with
A blare of fanfares,
That he began to put out fires.

And he was happy,
Or so he thought. Merely,
The guy was a good employee.
However, he burned out,
Within a year of operation.
That's how it was,
He has a brave nation.

Like a spiral, half a century later,
The grave burned down,
As if had tried a hater.
But it destroyed the fires,
It won't help now even samsara.

After thinking a little,
Sadness comes.
I wonder,
If morality would return?
And in the end,
Next a bit thought,
Smell gas on the roses,
From passing large cars.

20.11.2025