In the flying knives houses

[morningswellow]

В домах летающих кинжалов
Взрастают красные цветы.
Однажды ты запросишь жалость,
Однажды ты, однажды ты.

Пусть нет слабей моих запястий,
Пускай мне некуда сбежать,
Цветок питается несчастьем,
Лозой ползет по этажам.

Крылаты взмахи тонкой боли
За тихий вечер у плиты.
И ничего не видно, кроме
Цветка, не пьющего воды.

translation:

In the flying knives houses
Grow red flowers.
Once you will ask for ruth,
Once you, once you.
There are no wrists weaker than mine,
I have nowhere to go,
The flower feeds on misfortune
The stem creeps along the storeys.
Winged flaps of fine pain
In a quiet evening near the stove.
And nothing is visible except
A flower that doesn't drink water.

Comments

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