67 мой перевод на английский

Sixty-seven years ago today,
A mother bore her little son in strife;
The servant of the Lord could never say
What shining talent she had brought to life.

Vitalik turns sixty-seven now.
This number is a trump card, not just age.
Though rhyming with it may be hard somehow,
It carries drive that breaks the highest gauge.

What lies ahead — another stage or end?
No, no! It feels much more like a new start.
When joy is in the soul and guitar in hand,
There is no limit — just Samsara’s art.

Let love and doubt and courage fill my sail
With winds that lift it strong and free.
I believe, O Lord, You measure well
My destiny by all I’ve done for Thee.

Oh Lord, how many miles will You still give,
Before the final harbor calls for me?
I’ll come to rest there when I’m tired and worn…
But till that day — it’s time to sail once more!

Sixty-seven years ago today,
A mother bore her little son in strife;
The servant of the Lord could never say
What shining talent she had brought to life.