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7 октября 2025 г., 21:02
Примечания:
Впервые из меня полились иностранные слова в таком виде, я сама в шоке. Но почему бы и не попробовать. Ритм получился вразвалочку, возможно, в угоду госпоже рифме. Либо под влиянием ритма I wanna be yours от Arctic monkeys, а это все же песня, а не стихотворение само по себе. Впрочем, их ритм можно взять за основу, и оно неплохо-то ляжет 🤔
З. Ы. Ни одна метафора при написании не пострадала. Ну, возможно только чуть-чуть)
I look at the window and see the crimson sky,
Full of pinky blood, before the sun completely dies,
Before the final day's breathe, before the changing world of night —
It's a moment of my hope, of the nostalgia's rise.
My younger years're still alive in this shine,
When the life was as bright as deadly sun's fire,
When the world seemed to help with the future's sudden pain,
When my days were so easily fulled of simple gains.
As a day's changed by night, so was changed my recent life,
And I saw lots of ways, but wasn't sure which is right.
Lost the ground under me, I even tried to fly,
But my wings got heavy, fallen down under the night.
Through the day, squinted, I'm still not given up —
In the street in the stream I disappearingly fly —
In the present, in the past I desperately try,
Try to find my future, try to answer "where am I?"
