Hopelessness and desperation.
No place for me. I can't be found.
Just only doom and destination.
I'm like a ****** bride with no sound.

May be I spoiled, I don't conceal.
I sinned, repented and forgave.
And didn't live with mute appeal.
I'm not a saint, but not a knave.

I am like others: grudges, dances,
Triumph and errors, fear of all.
I am like others: love with candles
And then dark loneliness in whole

But only time made fun of me.
And didn't give a second chance.
All things I've done through daft stupidity,
I can't undo. Just in no stance.

A glass of wine, a rainy evening…
The window’s wide open, the candles blink.
The wind is trying to put them out.
Silence fills her. No need to think.

She feels good, and no need to hurry.
Tears of heaven delight the ear.
She has no friends. She has no girlfriends.
And only her cat is always near.

She is contented with her aloneness.
There’s no fluster or moping at all.
She’s pleased with herself and she is honest
With her own conscience and with her soul.

She doesn’t want any loving thrills,
No worrying, no passions, no needless doubts.
All is got over. Nothing remains.
Enough as it were so many fouls.

The wine is drunk. The evening is chilly.
The window’s wide open. The candles went out.
She calmly goes to pure bedroom.
No need to hurry. And all is out.