The road had splitted a steppe in two halves, And it is now indistinct - where is the end of way. Along the road we are going on two different sides And canít cross it ever. How many winters it will take this way? Someone should risk, have an advantage! We need to have a conversation - the crossroad is near, Cross it, if you think that Iím not able. The road, road is across the earth - Across the destiny is as one deep furrow. Many a people have found a companion For a few time, but not the true partners. The grin will flicker like a misfortune, Forever the road fork will separate them... Where are the necessary words, whoíll first find them? I missed the turning point again... A river - as the escape is sent to them, They only could stretch their hands... But again, again they stay on the different decks, - Help us, give us your proper counsel! The Volgaís wind is viscious and tipsy, Whispering into ears as a prompt: "Thereís a few time, haste, donít wait the end of way" - Who will run risks that time to cross first?
© Lyudmila Purgina. Translation, 2013