GUEST POST // Lonely Place / Lugar Solitário by Ephemeral Mementos

Its a lonely place,
to love you;
A sad song,
with no prose;
A declaimed poem,
without rhymes.

Its living a life,
without objectives;
Sculpting marble,
without chisel;
Painting lovely pictures,
without paint.

Its suffering from a terminal illness,
that never ends;
to lack air to breath,
each time you inhale.
to weep deeply,
with dry eyes.

Its conquering the World,
for nothing;
Giving up,
one step away from the finish line
and remain there, looking,
watching the others go by.

(Portuguese Original Version)

É um lugar solitário,
uma canção triste,
sem prosa;
um poema declamado,
sem rima.

É viver uma vida,
sem rumo;
esculpir mármore,
sem escopro;
pintar murais lindos,
sem tinta.

É sofrer de doença terminal,
que não tem fim;
ter falta de ar,
ao respirar;
chorar profundo,
de olhos enxutos.

É conquistar o Mundo,
para nada;
a um passo da meta,
e ficar, olhando,
vendo os outros passar.

© All rights reserved 2014

Why do you crave my Autumn? // Что в осени тебе моей?

This post was created at the insistence of Cyan RyanHis friendly support and professional editing helped me to express myself as fully as possible in English, in a language that isn’t native for me. This post is a punctilious translation of my poem in Russian, that was published before on the 10th of October, 2014. And I’m happy that now I can present you a really high-quality translation!

∼ ∼ ∼ ∼ ∼

Why do you crave my Autumn?
She is untameable and transparent.
She has few cheery days, and many dreary greys.
Her cold hand can’t enhearten with its touch.
Her pale cheeks never blush from sensual affections or lust.
Only empty endlessness lies behind Her pellucid blue eyes’ lids.
Her altar, a pedestal entitled ‘Eternity’, is seasoned with the ashes of the ordinary.

I met Her by chance one noisy summer day.
It looked like She loved me.
She passed away long ago, while Her residue remained within.
Why do you so crave my Autumn?

∼ ∼ ∼ ∼ ∼

Что в осени тебе моей?
Она дика и молчалива.
Немного в ней веселых дней
И много – серых и тоскливых.
Ее холодная рука
Не ободрит прикосновеньем,
И не зардеется щека
Желанья сладостным томленьем.
В глазах прозрачных голубых –
Лишь пустота и бесконечность.
Усыпан прахом дел земных
Алтарь – подножье слова ‘Вечность’

В один из шумных летних дней
Я с ней случайно повстречалась.
Похоже, нравилась я ей…
Она давно уже скончалась,
Но часть ее во мне осталась.
Что в осени тебе моей?

© All rights reserved 2014