Hello, my death,
I' m glad to be speaking the same language with you.
I often needed someone to whom it does not matter who I am now.
Who knows me and will open the doors home for me.
Teach me in what can be said by me.
Teach me-the words are indifferent like a knife.
But the one who lusts for love is twice unprotected,
And, not knowing you, is moving as if in the dark.
And everyone speaks about love in words.
Everyone has beautiful dreams,
And everyone's sure that it's he who is the source of fire.
And it is a topic for a new war.
Hello, death, thank you for being.
My solemn city has not awaken from sleep yet.
While we are here and there is still time
To make movements of love,
We have to leave the path to the spring clear.
And someone's waiting for us on the other bank.
Someone'll look me straight in the eye.
But I heard a song, it said:
Do what you've got to, and come what may.
I think this is an apt answer to the question.
But each of us is trading himself seriously
In order to buy the continuation of spring for himself.
And everyone at heart doubts that he is right.
And this is a topic for a new war.
