Сергей Александровский — Melancholy

Without you,
there is no song, no breath.
In my lungs,
the bitterness of a burnt-out autumn.
Echoes of the past
come whispering back.
Shadows, ravens, black sheets spread around.
Memory lashes,
inventive and cruel.
Striking hard
with heavy boots.
The skies pour down curses with the rain.
And my soul drowns in mud,
in melancholy.
You were my capricious world,
my sea, my universe entire.
The splash of waves, the golden dawns, a revelation I could never fathom.
A tender cloud, a gentle morning,
a warming ray upon the soul.
My happiness just half confessed, not simply good,
but the best of all.
In a clouded, restless
subconscious.
Thoughts tumble down like an avalanche.
Were you sent to me
as punishment?
If so,
then perhaps I must repent.
Night breaks in through the cracks
of the curtains.
Its blackness
creeping across the room.
I am ready,
I replay the past again.
Your lips,
your hands, your languid eyes.
You were my capricious world,
my sea, my universe entire.
The splash of waves, the golden dawns, a revelation I could never fathom.
A tender cloud, a gentle morning,
a warming ray upon the soul.
My happiness just half confessed, not simply good,
but the best of all.