Amidst molten candles and sundown prayers Amidst war trophies and fires of peace Lived book children who knew no battles Anguishing their minor catastrophies Children always complain of their age and their lot And we fought until slain And schemed mortal plots. And our clothes were patched By our mothers with haste We then swallowed books Getting drunk of the taste Hair stuck to our sweaty foreheads Phrases sucking air right out from our guts And our heads spun by combatís fragrance From the yellowed pages descending on us. And attempted to reach We who knew battles not With a war-calling screech Giving it all we got Secret orders were passed Borders suddenly sprang What it means to attack And war chariots clang In the boiling pots of past battles and wars So much food for our tiny brains To the roles of betrayers and cowards In our childish games were our enemies named Villianís footprints werenít even Allowed to cool And to beautiful women We promised amour Having calmed our friends worries And our families loved To the roles of the heroes We lead ourselves on But we canít always run to the dreams in our heads Short the century for fun - mostly pain lives on Try to pry open the palms of the dead And receive a weapon from their strained arms And distinuish, acquired A sword from the hearth Put on metal attire Whatís it worth? Whatís it worth? Find out - you a coward? Or one chosen by fate See a glimpse of your power Give real battles a taste. And when near by falls your wounded friend And the world hears the howl coming from you And when youíre left skinless - this isnít pretend Because theyíve killed him and not you You will see, you will know, Find out from within From the grin that is shown That is deaths scowling grin Lies and Evil - look and find How their faces are harsh And always behind Ravens, tombstones and marsh. If you cleared your way with your fatherís sword And your tears had dried leaving nothing but salt If in heat of the battle found out whatís what Means your read useful books when you were only small. If the meat from a blade You did not eat a bite And your arms folded - stayed And looked down from a height Entered not into battle Against butcher and scythe Means that life proved your mettle You had nothing to give.
© Alex Lvovsky. Translation, ?