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 don’t get good reading any longer My guitar is broken, out of tune, And I can’t go higher and I can’t go lower And I can’t have sunlight or the moon. I can’t free myself - don’t get a right to - Only wall and door and in between I cannot turn leftwards and I can’t turn rightwards Only just the piece of the sky, only just the dreams. Dreams of how they’ll free me, of how I will exit, How they’ll give my guitar back to me Who will meet me there, how they will embrace me And what kind of songs they’ll sing to me.
© Ilya Shambat. Translation, ?