The Scorched Heart Confession pt. I 04. 03. 16

Эпиграф:    "...Я когда-то умру. Мы когда-то всегда умираем
Как-бы так угадать - чтоб не сам, чтобы в спину ножом
Убиенных щадят, отпевают и балуют раем
Не скажу про живых, а покойников мы бережем..."
               В. С. Высоцкий

I'll certainly die. And in my darkest hour
Unlikely will see some dear persons around
Just sooner or later the shroud will embower
The hopes of my past and the plots left unwound

The ghosts for the last time will come near my dwelling
And summon the angels of death to my site
Their frightening beauty will be so compelling,
That none will remain but to follow the light

Thus all will end. Not a bit unprecedented
But till it's not done, I will try to recall
How much of the cryptic art I represented
And how lost my sacral occult aureole:

...'Twould be a great guerdon - the title of Master
But every first step on my warpath was wrong
Today I'm too old with my sore eyes lacklustre
To challenge the fiends for the black reaper's throne

The Gloom without exit; the Dream without entry -
It was my existence for many long years
The walls of despair and the fear as a sentry
Let not the remote song of love reach my ears

I can't state I worked hard or grubbed like a drafter
But there's something worse always haunted my way -
The sense of the present bereft of hereafter
Impressed by the pain and the bitter dismay

Along the road led me to such soul's depletion
My chalice of sorrow was drained to the lees
But not the gained knowledge nor trained erudition
Could help my scorched heart to obtain calm and peace

I have to admit : life was squandered and wasted,
Gave not a chance that would be named unreleased
And e'en the elixir of passion I tasted
Can't mend the conception completely deceased.

This world's getting more and more wild and psychotic
The smart say the trees on the curved roots stand tight
But mine are too crooked. And my lyre is chaotic
Recurrently Doom quells my thirst to indite

I flow 'gainst the tide but still far from the fountain
My body grows weak, the reaction speed slows...
Remember the wisdom - if you'll climb the mountain,
You'll witness on its very top nothing grows