С давних времен предпочитаю писать стихи на английском, нежели на родном. Думаю, в группе есть еще люди, готовые поделиться своим англоязычным творчеством. А для начала покажу, что у меня получилось)
My life is something like a game,
It's full of victories and falls,
I lose it all and start again,
My choice is true, sometimes it's false.
Sometimes I see this hollow world,
Where everything seems to be fool,
I feel so wretched, it's not my fault,
I try to find a fate to rule.
I find a joy in my reflections,
When I'm alone I feel complete,
I've got my highest satisfaction,
Just when my soul's about to bleed...
But if you want to know my feelings,
It's all in vain despite you're willing...
********************************
How can I tame my Muse if she's so tough?
She comes to me and goes away too fast.
Sometimes she whispers me to write 'bout love
Sometimes I write 'bout memories of past.
Today I cry for Muse, but she is hiding,
I write my poem for her sake indeed,
I've got a gift, but not in mood for writing,
But why do I do what I don't need?
Maybe I'm tired of ado which surrounds me,
I want to close my mind, from everyone I hide...
I've got my face that all of people see,
But it's not really me what I'm inside.
And only few of them possess my heart and soul,
For them it's me, not playing role...
**********************************
Day after day I feel the pain,
It's hard to speak, I'm out of breath.
I feel like I go mad again,
I lose my concious, lose my faith.
I think of something deep and wild,
It's neither love nor destiny,
The sense of life is in my heart,
I want to cry, but who cares me?
Sometimes I'm jealous, when I see
He looks into her empty eyes,
I try to scream he doesn't hear,
She's not that girl that he desires.
But it's philosophy of life -
You're happy only when you drive.
nothing goes on like I planned it when I was young
i find myself in a room in a bachelor suit
the couples around are happy, they're smiling at me
and probably I should say something to them
they seem to know me out and through, but I
don't know where they're coming from
Their faces are so familiar that it hurts
to admit that I never knew who these people are
the bow-tie ties my neck like a slipknot
and the lamplight shining here is too bright
I'd better get a bartender to mix me one
with meth or 'caine just to make me feel
the music stops and they circle me outright
the spotlight spots me sitting with stranded sight
the microphone goes down it falls to the ground
and the people stop breathing to hear me speak
my heart belongs in a different place
my soul trapped in a different time
I'm getting married away today
to a girl that I never wanted mine
my senses die as I walk the row
my sweat keeps dripping on a hushed floor
I wish today I hanged on a rope
I never said I do, well, never before
I speak, I shout, I cry, but the crowd is deaf
the rose I wear pins my heart through
The blood is staining my shirt, and I loved it so
that I'll never have a heart to throw it away
the minutes pass as they should, one by one,
but what I feel differs from beat of time
it differs from everything I was ever taught
I'm trying to reach back for the memories
I'm trying to figure out how it started
to extrapolate if it might have an end
to see what I did wrong to get myself here
and if there will be ever way back
but all I can concentrate on is a thought
that is confusing, so disgustingly cheap
the thought that it's irreversible once launched
like a child birth in a hospital high on pain
When all is gone
I stay alone
naked on the bathroom floor
with sleeping pills
or razorblade
that strives to tell me more
about values
i don't have
about them i loved
and took to bed
so when i die
i want them cry
i want them sing my song
the most stupid one
and say it was my best
and say i loved it most
i want them sing and dance
pretend
i want my girlfriend be
sleeping with my ghost
i watch myself
i taped it all
it's ugly but it's true
i'm high on you
or alcohol
that shows me the way
to better me
i never was
i quit, it's simple.
just because
when i die
i want them cry
i want them sing my song
the most stupid one
and say it was my best
and say i loved it most
i want them sing and dance
pretend
i want my girlfriend be
sleeping with my ghost
well, I don't often write in English - but at times I make English versions of my Russian verse...
Here is the shortest I've got, beg you not to spit at me ))
it is called "Bestow thy grace"
***
Forgive me if I dare stay
Thy shade, wind-driven.
Bestow thy grace on me, I pray,
So I could live on.
Do not deny this bliss to me -
To laurel-crown thee,
With wreathes of words, on bended knee,
In love's robe gown thee.
I wouldn't burden thee with such a gift -
But ah! it's imperceptible to lift.
***
I'm not at all sure it's a sonnet but it was meant to be an imitation of Shakespearean verse.
This was written in English, from the very beginning, unlike the previous one.
It's called "End-of-February Song", from my latest book of poems, "Songs of Winter".
***
At the end of the winter
There comes a morning
When you suddenly feel
A strange peace of mind
Some sort of cleanness
And clarity of consciousness
That makes you want to sing
I know the coming spring
Will wash away
This fragile harmony
The sunlight, the warmth, the waters
Overflowing the banks
Flooding me with emotions
Hormones making me exceedingly sensitive
But now that the crystal
Thoughts are still there
I'm standing in the doorway
Looking back on my own footprints
In the fresh morning snow
On the threshold of a new spring
Here is my end-of-February song
Let me sing of the day
The last of this February
Can there be anything as grand as it?
And this is probably the toughest job I've ever done - it wasn't easy to stick to the original rhythm and pattern, as it is written in Akhmatova's style.
"Vieni, vieni..."
Mantled with drizzle, or veiled with a whirl of snowflakes,
Wrapped in St Petersburg’s silkiest breeze I may be;
Whether at sunset or sunrise, no matter it makes,
Blessed and welcome, the day of your advent I’ll see.
Lilac in blossom will mingle its smell with the breath
Rising above the spring Neva on that precious day,
Or, if the river is ice-paved and frozen to death,
Still I won’t miss those two glittering eyes on my way.
Shadows will linger, and on will the evening lights stay;
Slowly and stealthily, sunlight will have us apart;
Half-finished talk at the airport café that day,
Rainy and chilly, the day you’ll be leaving, my heart.
Привет всем! А кто может подарить несколько своих стихов. Дело в том что я играю в группе, музыка в стиле post-rock, emocore. Музыка есть, но нет слов. Хотим петь именно на английском, но не умеем писать стихи на этом языке. Пожалуйста, помогите музыкантам если вас не затруднит :)
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