| Grain, squeezed in the cob -
|
| Yolk, cell, monolith ...
|
| Talent ruined in the bud;
|
| Soul that hurts.
|
| What juices draw roots,
|
| When in the plexus of roots,
|
| We do not become more submissive
|
| And don't we get stronger?
|
| While the fire is burning
|
| While the stream is churning
|
| While the globe is spinning,
|
| While the clock is running
|
| While the soul hurts
|
| I know for sure that I'm alive!
|
| And it is not clear which is more expensive:
|
| Another sunset? |
| Is it already dawn?
|
| And the look is closer and stricter,
|
| And you won't fit the answer
|
| Solving a simple problem
|
| Where there are only two options:
|
| Still - it can't be otherwise
|
| Already - you can barely manage.
|
| While the fire is burning
|
| While the stream is churning
|
| While the globe is spinning,
|
| While the clock is running
|
| While the soul hurts
|
| I know for sure that I'm alive!
|
| Not a word of lies, not a false note.
|
| Everything is on the surface - take it!
|
| When you don't think what's next,
|
| What the hell are Novembers!
|
| And nothing has changed...
|
| And we are alive until that time
|
| While we hope for mercy,
|
| Not knowing the rules of the game.
|
| While the fire is burning
|
| While the stream is churning
|
| While the globe is spinning,
|
| While the clock is running
|
| While the soul hurts
|
| I know for sure that I'm alive! |