название:
автор:
Immortelle for the hollow grave
автор:
Blackthorn (RUS)
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The cold voice of the tempest, It makes me run away There’s something bittersweet And true in the air this day At long last I can whirl round With fallen xanthic leaves Unite with birds of passage and fly above the trees (The) stories that must flash out With a pulsing aorta of (the) sky And then must turn to ashes I kiss them all goodbye The rotten lips taste divine, Can’t explain to you why The last pain pierces my heart I laugh and deeply cry And stunning is the black-eyed thicket And the swamped grass, Not a human, not a god yet, Come, veni foras! And stunning is the black-eyed thicket And the swamped grass, Not a human, not a god, Mother, veni foras…
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