The Black Buzzard s Wings 04. 12. 13

Epigraph:   «...Ты поймешь, что узнал, отличил, отыскал
По оскалу забрал это смерти оскал
Ложь и зло - погляди, как их лица грубы
И всегда позади вороньё
                и гробы...»*

...I feel myself tired like I've walked the long miles
Amongst the fresh graves and the funeral piles
My heart beats too fast for the blood cold as ice
Which can't hold within e'en the love's fragile ties
I've wasted my strengths in the torment and woe
Death vanquishes all - 'tis what I really know
Her grim swamps beyond the horizon extend
And greedily gorge the defiled poisoned land

The winter reigns freezing my world and my breast
It brings to these terrains the stiffening rest
But I see no difference, I'm grievously numb
And sick to descry the wretched form I've become
The lethal disease, the obsequial rites,
The tears in the rain and the feverish nights -
It's everything -life- has been giving to me
The grief overall - 'tis my nature's decree

No hope's left, in me - just the gloominess rules
The nightmares keep swarm the lugubrious ghouls
The forthcoming not a false sign foreordains
But these lines remind my own mortal remains
Behind are the dead and the carrion crows,
The coffins that stand in the numberless rows
Thus passes the being on this god-damned earth -
The gulf of distress and the quantum of mirth

I've none to desire and no one to be **
My downfall deserves nor excuses nor plea
And e'en if of me something worthy will stay,
'Twill scarce raise my name from the chasm of decay
But yet I'm not gonna stop flow 'gainst the tide
The Dark is my shelter; the North Star's my guide
Yes, Memory hurts and Remorse often stings
But my true support is the black buzzard's wings

* В.С. Высоцкий
** «Нечего желать и некем больше быть»
Б.Б. Гребенщиков