/I’m still struggling with a (sort of) writer’s block, so instead of a proper piece of brand new poetry here’s one more translation of a song from Russian into English.
This one belongs to a band named ‘Jane Air’, and you can listen to the original here, if you’re curious. I believe that some choices that I made concerning the structure of the verses and punctuation could be understood only by listening to the source material.
I’ve shortened the name of the song in the process of translation, because I’m Batman. Cheers to everybody!/
The women’s legs are entwined all around here
There’s a halo right above him
His blood runs thick, love cuts deep
They’re his Mary Sue’s
Swing to his rhythm in his room
In unsteady light
He’s not a saint, no, it just spins, spins
The DJ scratches vinyl somewhere around
It’s an after party
Among melting dresses, burning curtains
Now girls are moaning, beds are occupied and ashes float everywhere
Patterns from your walls are painted on your cloths,
On the floor, in the feverish shroud,
In every corner a demon lurks
You know you won’t find them, not until sunset comes down
There’s no fear!
You are the meanest demon
You fill the souls of men with dreams of gold
And smell of incense
So that thousands of them would follow you
Loyal like trained dogs
With their guns put to their heads
They go right to the edge like sheep
You’re the rock star here!
Burn down if that’s what you want
But admit that you don’t give a fuck about those who are following you!
The apocalypse is right here
Follows swiftly behind your back
You’re on fire and we should walk straight through your flame
Billions will burn as one
We were like moths, we were following your course
We flew into the light
Where we were dying for your cause
The final demon pulls his face and gushes with spit
The apocalypse is already here…
Cities will be going dark one by one
Ray of Earth
Heaven’s son will descend to hell
Spoken word sequence:
You alone will be able to look into the eyes of those who will meet you there
You’ll walk dancing through tongues of flame
Catholics and orthodoxes will lower their banners
Blinded by your ability to sneak into the hearts of men
And steal the very essence from there
The volcano awakens.
Though he is soaked with sweat
And blinded by steam
We get up from our knees
And we follow him.