The traffic lights don't burn alight, they wait,
Every trace of wind is gone, completely gone.
Bitter cold, or maybe a heat wave here,
Or maybe the trembling, or the pain of wings.
Vermilion is spread across the sky, in mist,
On the footpath, dandelions go into color.
Everything's the same, it's just a shame, a shame,
Since yesterday you are no longer here.
Were the words said into the night,
Were you welcoming, did you wish for us to meet?
You loved so much, that which you held sacred
I will never get to know that, dad!
I couldn't even write a few lines, for the future,
I couldn't say a few lines, at once.
It's just that I loved you, like in debt,
And I still love you like that.
Like mugwort grass, skimming the forehead,
Uncomfortably enfold the grave.
But the God took you to himself.
And did not even allow me a few words in debt.
Enfettered by a gauze, black
Crumpled by a red gauze.
Absurd speeches in the churchyard,
In the churchyard, not a single good thought.
The mother got crazy with yells,
Everyone's crying, like little kids, miserably,
I wish I could've flown into the bushes, and the rivers,
And to yell there like a black jackdaw, dad!
tonyl
la liberta
水, 02/11/2016 - 21:26
sandring 
Wow... that was a hard one, I even had to use a dictionary to pick better words...
It may be a bit disjointed or have some mistakes, I'll go over it a few times, but if you see mistakes, let me know.
Плачь means "crying," but it has been pointed out that "lament" might fit better, and I think it does.