" Чаррос "

If I'll ever have a horse, i'll call him Charros.

Swift will be his pace, and dark his mane.

Noble spirit rising, and his gaze unveiling

darkness that is feared within his pace.

Like the wind he'll run, his nostrils tasting

changes in the currents of his path.

Me atop his back, his mistress, i'll be lazy,

letting him decide which way to hide.

Shall we go up? Or shall we go deeper?

Is the end in sight when one is chasing night?

Can my God of Death pretend he's sleeping?

When he's walking with me resting on his back?

Will i sing a song of sadness, or of joy?

Will my dress be white, the undelivered bride?

Will my heart be filled with love, or tears i cried?

Will my womb know love, or still be cast aside?

Oh, dear gods, how tired one becomes!

Living life as if tomorrow never comes.

Drown in abyss of your lover's gaze.

Breathing fire from the depth of hearts.

Birth the sons and daughters, stars and caves,

Flow like water when the trouble comes.

Let his fingers carve your flesh alive,

while your moans and screams appease the skies.

Deeper, deeper! Do not fear the dead!

Thrust your presence right into my heart!

God! And heavens! Merging into one!

This is music in its finest sense.

Keys to Avalon, on chains, deliver.

Hidden behind shrouds, hidden in plain sight.

Isle of Dead, regrets entombed,

sealed from all the living, shamed,

awaiting pardon.

Just another chance!

To start it all again!

"But we didn't know!" souls complain.

"No one told us! Pain held us enslaved!"

"Fear paid our bills, and drained our efforts!"

"And we loved, and loved, and loved, but all in vain!"

….. If i'll ever get delivered to that boat,

let my steady steed become my savior.

Disobeying laws of souls, betraying patriot.

Death will go in exile, as will i.

There we are, forever marching to our star.

Point of all return, in pitch-black ocean.

Silently. There is no need to utter words…

Us, immortal souls,

are still not welcome,

in the world.