Indifferent Snake Привычка, мой перевод на английс

Виталий Шматалюк
When habit, like a cold, indifferent snake,

Crawls in to warm itself inside the heart,

When suns go dark and earth is left to ache,

And food has lost its spicy, fiery part;


When wine forgets the taste of lips I knew,

And silk of your soft hair is not a wonder,

When I grow cold and harsh, forgetting you,

While sitting in a tavern, torn asunder;


When the enchanting warmth of your soft breast

Becomes just sweaty flesh and nothing more,

And even nights of love we haven't guessed

Will seem like nothing but a tedious chore;


Then I shall die...

To rise and live anew,

And to bring back the faded love for you!


But: When angels finally descend for me,

I do not know what hue their wings will bear.

Will I have time to recall those lips, and see

If I can warm my soul with what is there?

There... past the threshold... where no clocks will wait...


© Copyright: Виталий Шматалюк, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126061305157
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