My beloved fiancee will weep for my passing, And my friends will pay off all my debts, Other all the songs will keep on singing, And my foes may toast me perhaps. I donít get good reading any longer My guitar is broken, out of tune, And I canít go higher and I canít go lower And I canít have sunlight or the moon. I canít free myself - donít get a right to - Only wall and door and in between I cannot turn leftwards and I canít turn rightwards Only just the piece of the sky, only just the dreams. Dreams of how theyíll free me, of how I will exit, How theyíll give my guitar back to me Who will meet me there, how they will embrace me And what kind of songs theyíll sing to me.
© Ilya Shambat. Translation, ?