Back to torrents of cars, to the hustle of streets, We will have to return - these are plans we canít cancel. And we start our descents from the conquered tall peaks, We are leaving behind, we are leaving behind hearts for ransom. Please give up on your pointless discussions, I already agreed with myself: There is nothing else better than summits, Except peaks you have not conquered yet. Who is eager to meet dangers all by himself? Who is eager to leave when his heart is still calling? But we have to descend from the conquered tall peaks... And what else can we do? Even gods were once fallen. Please give up on your pointless discussions, I already agreed with myself: There is nothing else better than summits, Except peaks men have not conquered yet. Lots of words and new hopes, lots of songs and new themes, Peaks awaken in us, and they call us to linger. But we have to descend, for a season it seems, Because always we have to come back for the winter. Please give up on your pointless discussions, I already agreed with myself: There is nothing else better than summits, Except peaks men have not conquered yet.
© Kirill Tolmachev. Translation, 2019