All turns to past
that once was
our today.
All snow
eventually turns
to rain.
All turns to past,
all goings
and all comings.

All comes
and goes
to nowhere
into nothing.
But nothing comes
to go without a trace
that’s left behind it..
unforgotten.

And in playing out
my role
I am observing
from
outside..
the flowing
of my moments,
years, and dreams
into the night.

The intertwining
of my thread
with those
whose fates
crossed mine
along the way.
Alas, to oh.. so..
many of them..
there is nothing
left for me to say.

Because
whether you play
the role
of king or jester
on this stage..
you play your role
but once..
to never
play it once
again.

And as for me,
in equal parts
my own role
makes me
laugh and cry.
If I may try,
I’d love to
finish playing it..
with dignity
and style.

Because the cost
of playing
is not paid
with earthly dimes..
The Devil’s only
currency
is moments
of my life.
And that is why
as much as I may
laugh at it..
in equal part,
I cry.

Credit: Adapted by me
into English from a Russian
poem by Юрий Левитанский