Who likes the rules of this game
Which's called life?
Who is against to throw away
This tinsel, and to fly?
To fly in height, to be aside
From all this vanity in vain,
And like the Moon, from distant flight
The independence to proclaim?
To look at this rotating world,
The world of muddle and confusion,
And take the lesson, staying cold,
Remaining far all illusion?
But the player of chance will never leave
His mind is always in exite,
Hit forehead's trying to perceive
How firm is matter of asphalt.
And he was sad not once,
That he has better times to wait,
But the extereme not once had chance
The prejudice to eliminate.
And this life is a temporal river of venture
Streaming across the aeon.
It's a game, played by the recless gambler -
A human being.
30.12.2004