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«Неизвестный Гений»
Melody of Forgotten Letters
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Among empty, dim-lit alleys wide,
Where shelves conceal a hundred letters’ tide,
Nothing is sadder, sharper, or more sore
Than hearing whispers of sorrow at the core.
Here yellowed pages from forgotten time
Lie holding farewells and forgiveness’ rhyme.
Beneath time’s weight they tremble, faintly torn,
Preserving anguish, bitterness, and scorn.
In empty alleys only shadows roam,
Dust of desperate messages calls this place home.
Here night is endless, day has lost its way,
A suffocating cage where partings stay.
From grief and wounds, from loss and madness,
I sing my song and open doors to sadness
I hear the whisper of dust-covered lines,
Where lost hope still breathes in faded signs.
Each syllable is cruel, precise, and cold,
Stripping the soul of garments worn and old.
On shelves asleep lie confessions past,
Words once called love that broke and didn’t last.
Those who once lived are gone without a trace,
And bitter is the road we call this place.
The ceiling murmurs secrets in the dark,
I breathe in sorrow left by foreign hearts.
That groan of soul now echoes through my string,
A song of separation it will bring.
From others’ tears, from voids that never heal,
I shape the sorrow that I truly feel.
Where shelves conceal a hundred letters’ tide,
Nothing is sadder, sharper, or more sore
Than hearing whispers of sorrow at the core.
Here yellowed pages from forgotten time
Lie holding farewells and forgiveness’ rhyme.
Beneath time’s weight they tremble, faintly torn,
Preserving anguish, bitterness, and scorn.
In empty alleys only shadows roam,
Dust of desperate messages calls this place home.
Here night is endless, day has lost its way,
A suffocating cage where partings stay.
From grief and wounds, from loss and madness,
I sing my song and open doors to sadness
I hear the whisper of dust-covered lines,
Where lost hope still breathes in faded signs.
Each syllable is cruel, precise, and cold,
Stripping the soul of garments worn and old.
On shelves asleep lie confessions past,
Words once called love that broke and didn’t last.
Those who once lived are gone without a trace,
And bitter is the road we call this place.
The ceiling murmurs secrets in the dark,
I breathe in sorrow left by foreign hearts.
That groan of soul now echoes through my string,
A song of separation it will bring.
From others’ tears, from voids that never heal,
I shape the sorrow that I truly feel.
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