I know nothing, I trust in nothing,
I no longer in life see its brighter side.
I approach my friend as if he were a lion
I need nothing else. I am bored and tired.
Someone knifes someone, smothers another..
Everywhere, cheating, lying and greed.
Would eyes not see and would ears not hear!
Lermontov! Werent you right — «what in world is good?»
Even thought is corrupt, even love is deceiving.
Theres no fulfilled dream. All is smoke and mirrors.
I see no joy in living, see in life no meaning.
Im feeling horror. I master fear.
Я ничего не вижу, я ни во что не верю,
Больше не вижу в жизни светлых её сторон.
Я подхожу сторожко к ближнему, точно к зверю.
мне ничего не нужно. Скучно. Я утомлён.
Кто-то кого-то режет, кто-то кого-то душит.
Всюду одна нажива, жульничество и ложь.
Ах, не смотрели б очи! Ах, не слыхали б уши!
Лермонтов, ты ль не был прав: «Чем этот мир хорош?»
Мысль, даже мысль продажна. Даже любовь корыстна.
Нет воплотимой грёзы. Все мишура, все прах.
В жизни не вижу счастья, в жизни не вижу смысла.
Я ощущаю ужас. Я постигаю страх.
«The evening shades have yet to sink, / But moonlight’s shining in the lake. / The heart, the soul — and everything / Feels superstitious and opaque... This superstition leads to yearning, / And in the mist that glows opaque, / Foreseeing bliss, the heart is burning, / The pale moon ...»
«The city sleeps, wrapped in the haze, / The streetlamps barely glimmer... / And I can see the morning rays / Beyond the Neva, start to shimmer. / This distant and opaque reflection, / This gleam of the awaking blaze / Conceals the nearing resurrection / Of dreary, melancholy days...»
«Poor naked wretches... / King Leer Outside, behind the window pane, / The angry tempest rages wild, / The clouds rush with gushing rain, / The merciless wind is wailing, riled! A frightening night! On such a night, / I sympathize with all the homeless, / And pity pushes me outside – ...»
«Don’t send for me. No need to call, / I’ll come inside. / Onto my knees, I’ll quickly fall / Down by your side. I’ll tamely wait for your commands / And hear them through, / And treasure every single chance / Of meeting you. Yo...»