About The Witcher
5 октября 2025 г., 17:50
Примечания:
Тот же самый стих про Ведьмака, но на английском
I am your karma – you're my sin.
A wanderer came into the inn,
A dagger shining on his belt.
His clothes were torn and dirty, thin,
From all the places he had dwelt.
He lives for vengeance, fierce and wild,
With rage to tear and kill again.
In every town, he’s been reviled,
By all the scorn of other men.
Familiar with a life so grim,
Yet fear seduced him more than strife.
For witcher’s ways are not for him—
He chose the Path, and that's his blight.
His name is known in every town,
To mutants and to men alike.
His grin means death will take you down,
His eyes a drowning, endless night.
The spawn of Hell, that's what they say,
A demon born, a devil’s kin.
One look, and you are led astray,
To madness creeping deep within.
He stood there, gazing through the crowd,
And finally, his voice he raised.
"I’ve found you now, my dear," so loud.
Forgive my sins, for all I’ve paid.
And in that moment, as he fell,
His quiet prayer to the Lord:
"Quaeso curam sui cari,"
Though blood runs dark, his soul is floored.
The crimson flows down from his neck,
A tear slides softly from his cheek.
He hears the cries, a bitter wreck,
As his own soul begins to shriek...
Примечания:
Как найду фортепиано, где смогу записать английскую версию, так сразу это сделаю.
