Translations from Alexey Gribanoff

Оригиналы можно прочесть здесь: http://moorcock.narod.ru/ в разделе "Стихи".

My world is of stone,
Of wind and its solo.
I'm ever alone,
A suffering soul.
Some strength for a strife,
Some ideas came flying —
No sense in my life,
I'm not even trying.
Everything's here in vain,
And nothing lasts long,
And my sorrow's a bane
Which, I hope, shall be strong.
Just a game, just a play,
A sad kind of art.
Acting wasted away,
And my part is apart.

***

E F#m
The Master of Vanishing Tower,
A(V) H(VII) E
No cares he has and no grief,
He only delights in his power
To vanish as swift as a thief.
A(V) G#m F#m
But lo! now his time has been over,
A(V) G#m F#m
Who could, they have spoken their word,
E F#m
And Jaskier, he stands at the bower,
A(V) H(VII) E
And Geralth has ta'en out his Sword.

***

O leave me, O leave me, alone am I here,
A "Wetter"* by name and a Werther of fear,
Of vanquish and weeping, and creeping and praying,
Destructive I am and all-never delaying.
I've asked you to leave me! In vain you are calling.
The need of my somberness leads to a "Quall"-ing*.
A pursuit that's aimless but never a-tiring
Stil keeps me again (only it!) from retiring.

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* Wetter (нем.) -- ветер, буря, непогода.
Quall (нем.) -- наслаждение болью.

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