Sprout

попытка перевода стихотворения Росток на английский язык
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Once upon a time, in a realm of darkness lost,
Where sorrow reigned and bitter tears were tossed,
A land of lies, deceit, and self-inflicted pain,
Where kindness withered, scorned and slain.

Through concrete, asphalt, miles of endless ache,
A call to light, for earth’s own sake,
I reached for rays the storm clouds tried to hide,
My fragile sprout, in crystal, did abide.

When weak, the world would shield it from the dust,
With tender care and pity’s gentle touch.
But as it grew, their care began to fade,
They watched in silence as it burned, decayed.

Through stormy squalls, it fought against its fate,
Through rain and thunder, it stood tall, straight.
Though time wore on, it never ceased to strive,
Its path, though crooked, kept its will alive.

Then came a foe, with boots of mud and spite,
To crush the sprout, to snuff its fragile light.
Through cannon’s roar, it sought to break its core,
To teach it lessons never learned before.

For honor, glory, generations yet to be,
For earth to thrive, for light to shine so free,
It stood its ground, no doubt within its heart,
And met its foes, chest to chest, with honor.

It fought until the end, its face etched with pain,
Its chest bore scars, but victory it gained.
Spring arrived, the starlings sang their song,
Yet it had lost the will to carry on.

No strength remained, no breath within its chest,
But had it fallen? No—spring brought its rest.
New sprouts emerged, green leaves reached for the skies,
To one whose light would warm the earth, arise.

And in the warmth, where puddles softly gleamed,
It danced a twist, as if within a dream