On the corner

On the corner stands a lonely old man
and its good he counted legible;
worn suitcases and antiques for sale there
to be wandering passers-by.

Znoya one summer, there on the corner
old antiques sold countless,
among the noise and dust of the busy city
inexorably old man standing there.

And mine znoya of summer
winter frost all out
but the old merchant --
Bone smrazi it.

And this is his life miserable,
not bring him to grief corner
but love and kindness
to the golden hope
for new and new acquaintances.