Forgotten Attic

Sometimes at night, when the silence runs deep,
my memory drifts to the attic I keep,
where an old wooden chest holds the map of our love
and the paths we once knew, now I still dream of.
And my thoughts start to wander, they glide and they flow,

Through midnight boulevards and warm little caf;s,
where I walked there with you, just a little bit dazed…
And no one will ever discover our flame,
or the way that I loved you — no fear and no shame.

Some people have closets, some live in the past,
while clocks on the wall keep ticking so fast —
tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

No whisky, no old, well-aged cognac
could ever affect me the way that it can —
that old, long-forgotten, abandoned attic,
where I keep all your kisses, the warmth of your hands,
where our dangerous, sinful circle would close in so fast.

At dawn I will quietly shut that old door,
hold the key to my heart like I did once before,
and my memory will bury it deep out of sight,
keeping you there forever, alone in the night.

Some people have closets, some live in the past,
while clocks on the wall keep ticking so fast —
tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

***

Этот текст — английская версия моей песни «Заброшенный чердак».
© Copyright: Наталья Николова, 2026 Свидетельство о публикации №126033004904
Это не буквальный перевод, а авторская адаптация, в которой сохранены образы, настроение и внутренняя история оригинала:
http://stihi.ru/2026/03/30/4904


This text is the English version of my song “Zabroshennyy Cherdak” (“Abandoned Attic”).© Copyright: Наталья Николова, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126033004904
http://stihi.ru/2026/03/30/4904
It is not a literal translation, but an author’s adaptation that preserves the imagery, mood, and inner story of the original: [link].