An antique store
Has no any fuss.
The old-time things there
Keep the dust of centuries - particles in the air.
Not because of big joy
The mute witnesses of strange troubles
Have found repose there.
Silver old-time medallion -
The work of a skilful master
Was brought here by one old woman.
Its history have intertwined with her fate.
It was hard for her to give it away,
But there was nothing more left,
Only old age, infirmity and illnesses.
The stingy tear was flowing down her cheek,
When she was going quietly out, getting bleak.
... Lover of others' antiquity
Will present to guests as new things,
Without the mopes
Strange bitter fate,
Others vain hopes.