My age is unknown — the metrics are lost.
I’ll make up my face that wrinkles crisscrossed
Just dark veil of years beclouds tired eyes,
More different knowledge, more bitter cries.
There’s no sense in bitterness, sadness and regrets
Hopes and expectations are better than upsets.
I’ll delete the «Misses», «Tears» and «Losses» files,
I go boldly forward, not afraid of trials.
The soul has no autumn, love has no end
If it doesn’t happen, start over again.
Let thanks be for the past, let thoughts be for the present.
Chance — for the impossible, wisdom — for the transient.
(Вольный перевод стихотворения "У души нет осени")