Unknown Author, And There Are The Friends... - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

And there are the friends on one minute,
On payment, on one day or night.
When it is convenient, they fume out
Forever, or some time arrive.

And there are the friends of a bad luck,
The friends of a boredom dull,
And there are the ones, who are rather
Not friends, as you try them to count.

There are friends by habit, by mode,
And friends by great love, as it said,
And ones, who are your friends on service,
Your colleagues on work, their state.

And friends could be also in bed,
It could be sometimes helter-skelter.
When time's gone, they go ahead then,
And all become trash, sweep and waste.

Some friends like to be your interior,
The others - like show from ties.
Some of them are otiose, needless,
For a whole life, and for one time.

And they may be your friends by mail,
And other ones could be - by trip.
Some friends are your friends from a leisure,
From keif, but are friends they, real?

And there are the friends by a gossip,
Whom you can lose all without pain...
But, know, it's hard to make tossing,
To call one the friend on your way...