Itís so hazy The mirrorís reluctant to show reflection. I canít see my face, I can only pretend. And dancers Are tired of feigning affection. But still I must sing my song to the end. All notes have already been played in flashes. The wine in the glass has burned down to ashes. The fleeting desire to speak has passed, And now I should quietly drink my glass. Fora while The cold winter sun hasnít smiled, And souls have been frozen beneath the ice. I know: Awaiting the spring is so futile. And memories of sunshine no longer suffice. The vital notes all have been played in flashes. The wine in the glass has burned down to ashes. The fleeting desire to speak has passed. And all I can do is just drink my glass. The music Is limping. Theyíre missing their notes. Iím caught in this circle. The trap soon will spring. Keep smiling! Iím going to leave at the close. But still I must sing what I came here to sing. The vital notes all have been played in flashes. The wine in the glass it has burned to ashes. The chill of the mirrorsí caress... impasse! And now I should silently drink my glass. Or maybe I better just smash my glass.
© Vadim Astrakhan. Translation, 2013