Only A Ghost Of The Long-Bygone Past 22. 10. 18

"... Ничего от тебя не осталось.
Только кукла с отбитой ногой.
Даже то, что мне счастьем казалось,
Было тоже придумано мной..."
        А. Вертинский

Upon the fresh snow left the rut of the sledges
"A peasant exulting" but my winter's black
My woman as always could not keep her pledges
And such situation is prosy and hack

We honestly strove to o'erpower the squalor
But it's not the source of our souls' solitude
The absence of love brings not hate but the dolour
However we suffered, we get nothing good

I'm trying to search for her fails some excuses
But no more can fit in her limited scope
Two decades her comebacks to me were the noosed
Which tied me up to the illusory hope

And now she's my regular mental disorder
Our life seems the walk through the dark frozen wood
I never conducted myself like a warder
Who wholly controls her. But probably, should.

Here what's not defunct still, is worthless and shady
And it correlates with the circling disgust
To my deep regret, e'en the sole beloved lady
Is only a ghost of the long-bygone past

Yet nobody has the shape of the forthcoming
The things we may fancy beget the sick awe
For someone the funeral orchestra's drumming
For some the hereafter is pain, blood and war

Concerning my old girl's and me lame relation
And has not it cancelled my freedom decree,
I'd say: It was raised by the cruel desperation
And if there's a person to blame, it is me

And on this cursed planet where everything's dying
The woe of the one downcast songster means none 
Too few the denying; too much the complying
In general, I was born 'neath the wrong sun...