I’ve been running on a track,
Overrunning pain and woes
And my grief with feet I crack.
Though with callus on my toes,
I shall jog in cheerful hope,
This sweet sport helps get things done
Years keep flying, but I cope:
Though no medal had I won,
Yet my final hour of life
Flees away for years, for long:
Those not slacking, those who strive
Here for more time shall belong.
© Dmitriy Belyanin, 2021
