[IngWar]

В общем, вот. Может ежели кто в английском хорош, оценят)


My heart is not as cold as ice
And it's not burning like a flame.
I think it's bitter as some spice-
Swamp water tastes just like the same.

Somehow it used to be the other way-
I used to have a pair of large wings
Or just strike firmly or loudly say-
No past, just present see I beings.

Lots of instruction books lay in my bag
And I remember all the things they taught.
But do they help me in my way in fact?
No way. They get in mind only when I'm caught.

And make me watch myself with bitter smile
But I can feel no force to get so angry
Or kind maybe; the thing I reconcile:
Too dead to live,too living to be buried.

I know I should, I know I must...
It's not the time when knowledge gives me strength.
When standing everything seems fast.
I don't like staying, neither-moving on the land.

I'm proud I forgot the thing
And the next second I remember it.
Oh for how long it's the same being...
How ugly pleasant is my memory.

I see so easy it's to run and hide inside
But you will never ever hide from it.
May seem to you, but there's no light,
I dive in darkness seeking for piece of meat.

There is yet hope deep in my heart,
Waiting behind the stinky land of marsh.
There'll be a rope to pull me out.
I'm waiting and the period is large.

I've read in books that there are sunny says.
I'm sitting in the middle of a cloud,
Waiting for wind to blow in face
And the direction forward would at last be found.