scarpeit

... And this rain will end, as life ...
And our souls trampled the countryside

with failures of kinks and curvatures
will return to the primordial obscurity.

There, in the darkness, the Eternal River
To its limits, the shadow of ancestors drives,
and the beasts, clouds,
under the sweep of invisible palms,
and rain, blind, inexorable rain,
feeding overcrowded land,
the prophecy becomes like a shiver
artist, giving birth to the soul.

... And our voices carry away the night ...
The cry of memory merges with the space,
with silence, with all that prevozhoch
can neither be a rebellion nor constancy ...
Do not take your hands off your forehead,
forget yourself in a daze of uncertain,
and through the palm of the hand,
as this rain ended in the morning.

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