Perhaps the wind itself from old myth sweped the dust away,
|
In a sleep of a beauty frigg caused the fear.
|
Ah worried, worried is Balde's mother,
|
So worried, that even the death takes a pity on him.
|
|
I saw the meadow full of faces,
|
Faces full of child's smile.
|
Their eyes lived for the joy
|
And the death was only dream.
|
But the grief dimmed my eyes by blood
|
And the time blew the horrifying day.
|
And I for this beauty,
|
Now in recollections mourn only.
|
|
Bitter thorn is the joy of other.
|
Innocence of blind eyes of brother
|
Starkles in cruel trap of envy,
|
Which like treacherous rose
|
Lacerates the white palm,
|
So as under the veil of sweet smell
|
Sees the fright of pain
|
In his eyes.
|
|
And the death like swan's neck
|
Flew toward the end of his life.
|
|
Vindictive, but full of tears
|
Is malice of mother,
|
Which by death of dearest
|
Is drowning in agony of grief.
|
Crowning by bottomless nostalgia,
|
Helplessly seeks in the eyes of death
|
The forgiveness, but it was fated her
|
To be destitute further.
|
|
When the envy wakes up the pain
|
And the innocence is betrothed with baseness,
|
Then by sorrow mourns even the death
|
And the life parts with the joy.
|
|
I saw the meadow full of faces,
|
Faces full of child's smile.
|
Their eyes lived for the joy
|
And the death was only dream.
|
But the grief dimmed my eyes by blood
|
And the time blew the horrifying day.
|
And I for this beauty,
|
Now in recollections mourn only.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Torment In Blind Eyes
|
| Dissolving Of Prodigy |
