Old age

I'm leaving, because in this abode of troubles
Nothing is permanent, there is no lasting
Let only he laugh at the one who leaves after
Who is going to live a thousand years

The book of my life is leafed through a pity
Sadness remained from spring, from joy
I don’t remember the bird when you came
And when the light-winged floated away

Months followed by months before us
Sages were replaced by sages before us
These stones in the dust under our feet
Were formerly the pupils of captivating eyes

I can't light the whole world instead of the sun
I cannot open the door of the secret of existence
In the sea of thought I found the pearl of the essence
But from fear I cannot turn into the light

Before we drink the cup of fate
Better, dear, pour another bowl
Maybe take a sip before the end
Heaven won't let us in its madness

We are the source of fun and sorrow mine
We are a repository of filth and a pure spring
A person is like in a mirror, the world has many faces
He is insignificant and yet immensely great

from Omar Khayyam in A. Sukhanov's version