The more I walk along my path,
the more hopeless dreams I have,
they die away in the evening dew,
they die away when I see you through.
The more I hold your hands,
the further away your thoughts are,
and these blooming saddened flowers,
whither slowly away, all in decay,
for there is no moree to be for,
and my feelings die... in a dead cold.
I trudge my way through this decadent life,
it all seems faltering, and for this my tears I cry.
The more I try to stand, the more I behold my downfall,
inminent, irridiscent,
the whole scenario grows desolatingly
and I turn around, and find you not holding me, abandoning me.
I fade away into nothingness, which I irremediably embrace.
The more I try to see through to you,
the less I see your soul, and hence my decaying soul succumbs with no hope.
RQ
Moscow
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