Наша жизнь-как фонарика узкий свет,а от лучика влево и вправо-темнота!Миллионы безмолвных лет...Все,что было до нас и придет во след,увидать не дано нам право.Хорошо б лет на тысячу растянуть время каждого поколенья,вот тогда б получился бы путь как путь,а не наше одно мгновенье!Но судьба усмехнулась бы:-Для чего?Вы мечтами себя тревожите,если даже мгновенья-то одного часто толком прожить не можете!Can someone accurately translate this Russian?(no translators pls)?
Our life is narrow like a beam of light from a lantern,
the darkness lies to the both sides of this beam.
Millions of silent years, all that existed before us
and all that will follow after— we have no possibility of seeing that.
How great it will be if only we could expand a life of every generation to thousand years,
that would be a journey, not like these short instants we're living now.
But our fate would ask us: for what? Why are you dreaming about it,
if you even can't live these instants in earnest?
(The author of this poem is Eduard Asadov)Can someone accurately translate this Russian?(no translators pls)?
wait a min you want it translated but you don't want a translators? AM I MISSING SOMETHING?
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