More and more often
They hide from me.
With me growing older
They take less interest.

From this truth it is not worth running,
But receiving it with gratitude,
Loneliness is USEFUL; at the finish, suddenly,
It becomes not sorrow, but joy.

If, concentrated, you weigh things
On the suitcases, in a hat and shod,
Before the JOURNEY tensely recalling,
So as not to forget something…