poem translation, from end-july 05

We were given a poem in Cyrillic. This is what I think it said. I have no idea what it really said.

Rocks

this creamy
wandering trail
krumbles
forward

But I realised
hope is out for me
backpacking over
a bitumen path

this
rolling over road
never breaking bones honeypot
should take clovering

no oncology
cancer
overhand connections
seven

So road onwards I
no path
no curving under over
no building there trees
a little track
prophet for me
pandering me
shoving me
forward