Читать книгу Манускрипт. Кандалы Времени - - Страница 17

Hazy horizon, cold wind blows…

Steel foot is over me and threatening.

Don’t delay – squash me —

And I will be dead and forgiven!

I was here many times and I remained alive…

I did not seek mercy, although I did see forgiveness.

Through the broken windows, suave as a count,

My home is visited by the last snowstorm of the winter.

Broken darkness behind the windows made of clay

Throws snow around my house, on every floor.

My times sped by and my alleys were trampled on,

Through them I made my circles.

Such a familiar pole on an unknown coast,

Broken windows, smoke without a fire,

And the pebbles of my paths, once so loyal,

Now no longer bring peace.

I was so pleasant and so clear;

What a series of meaningless victories!

I forgot so much, and now I have agreed

To rest in the chair of my last years…

But No! I must get up and face the storm!

It will wail and moan,

And I will tell my girlfriend-Destiny who feels fear

That I can still run up to the top of the mountain.

And there, the Path is snowbound; the horses of the spring

Are waiting for when it will be thunder!

I will go there; the snowstorm will not catch me now,

But could have caught me how I was.