Tangorodream - Colcenation

Colcenation

...In the impenetrable fog
lives only the thing reviving in you.
Feet have got used to a firm ground - there's no hope for them.
Only thoughts have power here.
Here they take form and content,
here they rule over their owners,
or on the contrary,
bring them to the initial chaos
on the wings of inspired stream of will.

What has remained in me?
Everything that could be my enemy
here is now dead in me;
everything that occasionally captivated me,

making me forget about anything else for a while,
- it has been burnt out with glowing needle
in a skilled workman's refined hands;
all that, that I was so proud
of its presence before,
and its absence is my pride now.

Only from this side of the eternity
the truth can be seen in it.
The precious sorrow -
deep-black fragrance
of thick bitter smell of wormwood;
cold fragment of a sorrowful tear
which turned to ice of hopelessness;
invaluable elixir,
burning out mortal remains

of deceptive aspirations which have settled inside
with rusty-grey stains;
letting a blind to see
and a sighted - to see the light;
letting a dead
to resurrect and a living - to transmigrate.

Waters of dark streams
under the railingless bridge are cold,
feet stick in the swirling cloud of fog,
but I believe and I know that I'll have enough
strength to move forward without using them.