why this witch is dancing
when half of the world is on fire?

because she lost the weakness
to love you like an impire

as if no tragedy was gonna happen 
while holding the broken wire

between your and her Universe
all birds
flamed in broken-hearted admire.

some come to purify my darkness

but all they really do

is pouring bleach 

on my flourishing in storm murk.

this voice
inside your head

these spoken
words

that spin
your head

belong
to someone else

so why 
you trust it?

cracked like a dry clay
how can i stay?

fear me, my darlin'
fear me for who i am

for no one is coming
to save us today

and each tender moment
cuts a new crack on my frame.

silver melts
on the curves of my throat

why is this city so cold?

street after street
in wander I walk

so many roads
but all seem just wrong

and tripping ahead
as half-dimming flare

i'm suffocating
breathing the air

no matter how
no matter where

these people around
bring only dispair.

for a long time
it lived

for a short time 
it died

legends followed
its game

but then
forgot to warn

dead can't see
your face

but dead can hear you
fine

and once the sun
is down

awakened will be those

whose graves
have lost its warmth

a long, long time ago.

kindness is my isolation

i could walk the world
in new shoes

but everyone avoids complications

sad news,
i'm one of them.

i've been ripping myself
from inside out

limb after limb
in savage denial

stubborn and restless
reaching to what?

good in me bleeds
each day - a fresh wound

hope made no sound
i held both my hands

on the throat of reflections
of what I was not.

i'm known
but not by you

time goes
and roof is growing lower

you keep your feet
with hope
to finally become the part
of blooming flowers in the ground

but we both know
your roots are doomed
to scorch in growing fire 
of my desire.

my shore is a lonely spark
snuffed out by the winds
of your ocean

i'm not a child of devotion

i'm an orphan

of you wicked disbelief.

To make a written text shine you need to trust it to the hands of a knowing polisher

—Editor.

Exquisitely written books not just tell you a story, they speak it to you as if this very story is the echo of your own life. Exquisitely written books have logical flow and don’t tolerate meaningless words on their golden pages. Just like in the creation of life, in exquisitely written books all elements are important for healthy functioning of the whole organism (whether it is life or a story).

But what has it to do with book translation, you may ask?! And the answer to this questions is rather simple.

Everything.

Unlike technical, commercial, scientific, etc., translations, literat...

you are my path
i walk it bare and hungry

in love
we are two shining spheres of wild

whereas in life
we float like icebergs - quietly 

there must be end
i could, of course, rewrite it

but when it's night
we love each other
gladly

and during day
we hate and rather
proudly.

i had my faith
in a wrong place

not my fault
that eyes are meant
to stare ahead

and finally
i think
i am afraid

to face the one
who had
my poisoned veto 
shared.