I weave my gray hair into my decrepit story.
The downs and ups of an upbeat breakdance,
It's got tenor and bass with a drunken vibe,
I invite everyone to this vernissage.
Here, in the rhythms of the story, is an ancient passage -
Out of sweet flattery, a Thai massage,
Out of bitter truth a mental collapse,
Of evil and good, thermonuclear schnapps.
Please don't read such a crazy story,
Here is the stench of betrayal and the ecstasy of passion,
Love's torment is reckless and delusional,
Sad smiles are an unreal bouquet.
I weave my gray hair into my old story.
It's a marvelous blend of sweet, bitter,
It's a layered roll of happiness and sorrow,
Of sad joy a salty omelet...
Leyla Yusupova.