Дорога в тысячу ли начинается с одного шага...
Мне кажется я себя теряю.Теряю в паутине этих бесконечных "надо".Я хочу накрыться с головой под одеялом и лежать.Лежать весь день и притворяться мертвой,играть в мертвую,как в детстве...
...a Distance there is...
Solitary colloquial play by Liv & Raymond, Music by Lorentz & Liv, Cello by Anders Moresby
Come in out of the rain thou sayest -
But thou ne'er step'st aside; and I am trapp'd -
A distance there is...
None, save me and the bodkin -
Pitter-patter on the roof:
Behold! - 'tis not the rain; thence me it has to be -
I will not drink thy vintage wine, my dear;
Thou hast heed'd that I am of innocence,
Yet thou let'st thy lass into peril -
Thou let'st me be parched;
My heart is of frailty,
My pale skin is hued damask.
When thou thy tears hast hidden, "Come back!", thou sayest -
There I soon am to be - but how am I to run
When my bones, my heart thou hast me bereaft-
But run thou sayest; I run -
And there and then I behold that a time will come
When I again dead will be.
Thou tell'st me to leave without delay -
I leave with my bodkin and my tears in my hands;
Lo! - the shadows, the sky - descending;
So by a dint of smite I gait
Ere I run and melt together with dusk.
Yon the reach of my mind I keep this event,
But it seems as if naught is to change anyway?!
After all these years thou left me down in the emotional dephts -
The sombre soaked velvet-drape is upon me hung,
Turning my feelings away from our so ignorant world:
All the beautiful moments shared, deliberatlely pushed aside -
...a distance there is...
Solitary colloquial play by Liv & Raymond, Music by Lorentz & Liv, Cello by Anders Moresby
Come in out of the rain thou sayest -
But thou ne'er step'st aside; and I am trapp'd -
A distance there is...
None, save me and the bodkin -
Pitter-patter on the roof:
Behold! - 'tis not the rain; thence me it has to be -
I will not drink thy vintage wine, my dear;
Thou hast heed'd that I am of innocence,
Yet thou let'st thy lass into peril -
Thou let'st me be parched;
My heart is of frailty,
My pale skin is hued damask.
When thou thy tears hast hidden, "Come back!", thou sayest -
There I soon am to be - but how am I to run
When my bones, my heart thou hast me bereaft-
But run thou sayest; I run -
And there and then I behold that a time will come
When I again dead will be.
Thou tell'st me to leave without delay -
I leave with my bodkin and my tears in my hands;
Lo! - the shadows, the sky - descending;
So by a dint of smite I gait
Ere I run and melt together with dusk.
Yon the reach of my mind I keep this event,
But it seems as if naught is to change anyway?!
After all these years thou left me down in the emotional dephts -
The sombre soaked velvet-drape is upon me hung,
Turning my feelings away from our so ignorant world:
All the beautiful moments shared, deliberatlely pushed aside -
...a distance there is...