I've been left in this empty room,
With my gaze burning ceiling's gloom.
Here, we've been falling down with a crew,
Now solitude's my only rendezvous.
No more crave for frivolity, hazard,
Just some water to quench this thirst.
Let me drift into sleep's gentle embrace,
Till tomorrow's light, with gentle grace.
Call me drunken, bestow me with ease
With these scorn words, like autumn leaves.
For you, cursing me is but a trade,
A craft in which your soul's debts paid.
Would you wound me, then? Go on, be bold,
Perhaps a strike will soothe your soul.
But know this, I'll not forsake this brew,
For in its haze, my love still true.
___________
(вольный перевод стихотворения "Нектар")