Автор оригинала: Ольга Островская
Оригинал: http://stihi.ru/2009/02/19/3572
An age is merely a page of human’s birth and death:
A salty water of the tears, a bitter piece of bread.
And when I meet with lady Lie in a buffoon’s attire,
I feel as wild tiger in the circus ring afire.
My Destiny will be performed: the Judge’s pen stops dead
Above the sentence, and my Fate may crumble to dust like sand.
Either the Evil or the Good can tips the scale for ages,
Uneven lines of doom’s signs set in the life-book pages.
The time of life streams ruthlessly as sand in a sandglass,
My pain knocks in another temple, and he can feel my pulse.
Both you and I are grains of sand; we are the salt of earth,
But still we fly to whir of time hoping for a new birth.
God stretches his hand not to cut short our transitory way, –
To turn about a sandglass to give us limpid day.
Each moment is a miracle, a blessing to believe,
A Heaven’s benediction to love and to forgive.