On the Deathbed by Artemii Smirnov

He is dying
and he looks successful. Dark room means anything but death and bubbled glory whispers behind his flabby shoulder. The murmuring is echoed by the walls and scares old man who's lieing on the bad in the delirium.
He dreams that he is young and handsome, he see himself on barricades with flag, he stands for freedom, love and careless stillness.
Why he for hell do not remain the same?
Why this young poet who he had been before become an old man with trembling hands and lips.
He was a Mayer ones, he was a good Mayer - honest, fair. He was fighting curruption on  top. He was taking part in the revolution. He had a pretty wife - J. J was smart and ambitious. J motivated him to be a politician, she wrote speeches for him. And he wrote poems and drew paintings for her. He always was a little  romantic and she always stopped him from loosing reality of things.
And J is gone now as he soon will be.
He dreams about his childhood. He was a boy and was playing "catch up" with his classmates, playing chess with his grandfather and ate cherry from the cherry trees on the streets....
He is dying now and he thinks about a little boy and he thinks about the J and he thinks about a Mayer and he thinks about the revolution....
And he thinks about himself in a dark room where he is right now and he stoped dreaming becouse it does not matter anymore....