Lyrics of Vina - Heiden

Vina (original)

Sivá tvář její pohltí prach,
stříbrné hvězdy na lících jí tají
Krůpěje smutku stékají v řekách,
řeky bez konce — tak hořké se zdají.
Hledíc na obraz na hladině vody,
polyká slova, jež říct se nedají.
Dusí oprátka vlastní nesvobody,
znavené oči útěchu hledají.
Jednou uvidět jasnější den,
jednou umlčet svědomí křik.
Zářící Triskeles daroval sen,
kéž světlo protrhne černých chmur šik.
Dvě drobné dlaně plačtivou tvář kryjí,
pod bílým závojem stigmata viny.
Doteky hlubin snad tu vinu smyjí,
čarvoné tůně snad utopí činy.
Činy co s můrami vrací se zpět
a duši nebohé nedjaí spát.
Můry co do křídel zahalí svět,
věci co vidíš se neměly stát…
(English)
Her grey face will absorb the dust,
silver stars melt on her cheeks.
Drops of sorrow are funning like rivers,
rivers without end — so bitter they seem to be.
Looking at the image on water surface,
swallowing wods that cannot be told.
The noose of her own lack of freedom chokes,
tired eyes are looking for solace.
To see a brighter day sometime,
to silence scream of conscience someday.
Greaming Triskeles gave dream as a present,
let the light breaks the crod of black worries.
Two small hands buried a tearful face,
under a white veil stigma of blame.
Touches of depths will perhaps purge away the guilt,
actions will be perhaps drowned in magic pools.
Actions that come back in nightmares
and do not allow oor soul to sleep.
Owlet moths will cover the world with their wings,
things you see should not have happened…

(translation)

Her gray face swallows the dust,
the silver stars on her cheeks hide
Drips of sorrow flow in rivers,
rivers without end — so bitter they seem.
Looking at the image on the surface of the water,
he swallows the words that cannot be said.
The suffocating noose of one's own unfreedom,
tired eyes seek comfort.
One day to see a brighter day
once to silence the scream of conscience.
Shining Triskeles bestowed a dream,
may the light break through the dark clouds of chic.
Two small hands cover a crying face,
under the white veil of the stigmata of guilt.
The touches of the deep may wash away the guilt,
crimson pools may drown actions.
Moth deeds are coming back
and the poor soul does not sleep.
Moths that cover the world with their wings,
the things you see shouldn't have happened…
(English)
Her gray face will absorb the dust,
silver stars melt on her cheeks.
Drops of sorrow are flowing like rivers,
rivers without end — so bitter they seem to be.
Looking at the image on the water surface,
swallowing woods that cannot be told.
The noose of her own lack of freedom chokes,
tired eyes are looking for solace.
To see a brighter day sometime
that silence scream of conscience someday.
Greaming Triskeles gave dream as a present,
let the light break the cord of black worries.
Two small hands buried a tearful face,
under a white veil stigma of blame.
Touches of depths will perhaps purge away the guilt,
actions will be perhaps drowned in magic pools.
Actions that come back in nightmares
and do not allow your soul to sleep.
Owlet moths will cover the world with their wings,
things you see should not have happened…