Tristan (Тристан) (traducción al Inglés)
traducción al InglésInglés
Was this story about you told ahead of time
only by plunk of stirrups torn apart?
Was that lively ornamental script of strings about you, prince?
Was that about you, my silver one?
Tough metal rang in your arms.
You saw and knew but couldn't believe.
Is she your lyre or your blade?
You've become steel, you've slept with pain.
Never argued with her love!
To carrion crows of herds of black horses
Returned faithful Tristan.
You flew in all four directions
Sang about her with mountain roads
Measured miles of days with horse crests
There, where a black horse turned into a crow.
You forgot your home beyond ice and fire
Was resurrected by lucid rain
From ashes in which you were burnt
My silver one, my living metal.
Were like a heartbeat; at nights you read
Between the strings, between the lines:
She is a blade, it is she who is.
The steel you slept with
Never argued with blade and lyre.
And to mountain camp of carrion crows
Returned as a wolf Tristan.
The proud Tristan.
Melnitsa: Top 3
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