Резултати претраге

That Which I Must Say

I don't know, - why and for whom this was necessary,
Who sent them to certain death with a steady hand...
Only it was so useless, evil and unnecessary,
The way that they were sent to their eternal rest.
 
Indifferent onlookers silently pulled their fur coats tighter around themselves,
And some woman with a distorted face
Kissed one of the departed on his blue lips
And hurled her engagement ring at the priest.
 
They covered the deceased with fir-trees and mud,
And went to their homes, to discuss -
That it is time to put an end to this outrage,
Soon already, we will all begin to starve.
 
And no one thought to just fall to their knees,
And to tell those boys, that in a broken country,
Even the bravest feats - are just steps,
Never-ending abysses...to an unreachable spring!
 
I don't know, - why and for whom this was necessary,
Who sent them to certain death with a steady hand...
It was so useless, evil and unnecessary,
The way that they were sent to their eternal rest.
 

Harvest Festival in the Workers' Cultural Centre

It doesn't matter how much we sang – it was as good as if were silent,
That's why our holy water is now dead.
The wheels of sorrow have run over us,
And here we go to the harvest festival in the workers' cultural centre.
 
It's time to refrain, but how do you refrain?
[How do you] leave this zone, pull the wires out of yourself?
And Rose from the State Timber Enterprise and Mary the Wedding Bird
Are dying for a ticket
For the harvest festival in the workers' cultural centre.
 
We know the machine is utterly broke,
We know there's no road here and never has been.
Close your eyes so you don't see a faun creeping in the field,
A star fallen from the sky is knocking at the door.
The harvest festival in the workers' cultural centre.
 
Black soot red as a flag,
Blown up trains among the ancient ruins,
Under the feet of the passers-by are paintings from Hermitage,
The conductor is completely deaf –
The harvest festival in the workers' cultural centre.
 
It doesn't matter how much we sang – it was as good as if were silent,
That's why our holy water is now dead.
And on the starry night I will wait on the quay.
We're in the beginning yet. The harvest festival in the workers' cultural centre.
 

Time To Cut The Loose Ends

Please let me interrupt your eternal discussions,
Please let me shatter all you hold dear and crush it.
Time is unrelenting, it is like a wolf bitch,
While we all sit in here, it rushes without hitch.
 
Oh, how I'd wish for my soul to live with gods on mount tops,
Instead the folks play football and kick it with their jackboots,
They trample on most sacred, for my soul can't escape them,
And then without warning it'll drop dead like a great ape.
 
How can we still live here's [a] great mystery for sure,
[When] everybody yells: 'Up!', but deep down we are all moored,
[Still] banging heads on walls, thinking all will change some day,
Who cares [anyway], it is time to croak, I say.
 
There is time to die and time to be newborn,
There is time to hug and time to shy away from,
[There's] time to bow down and time to buck the old trends,
And here it comes: time to cut the loose ends.
 
I begged guardian angels to intervene in my case,
[As] I looked at the heavens and I saw their faces,
[Then] I stepped to the stream, withered by the great thirst,
[Here] I stand on the bank but I can't enter twice now.
 
I would be better off, living like a cloisterer,
To avoid the flame and live without worrying.
[My] body is my cage, my soul's a captive prisoner.
Enough, set me aflame. It's time to die and finish it.
 
© St.Sol @ LT: all rights reserved.
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Ok, I get it that most of you just can't bring yourselves
to pressing 'Thanks' when you have already enjoyed
and probably sung an equirhythmic rhymed translation
and then realized that you couldn't have done a better
one yourself. Yet, avoiding this gesture implicitly helps
to promote other, often subpar work on this site. St.