I could recognize which God
Would wager His soul in my place
I would show him the boundary between fear and dignity
And these dropping wet hands of blood and hardships
You still had tears, my heart,
Moments of regret ... fantasies
I would take Him to places where pity did not even matter
He would have so much stomach to cry
From which winter ... what a plug
From which winter ... what a punishment
From which winter ... which hand
From what goodbye I will be born again
I could only take it off in my eyes
At least the habit of madness
And this useless horror
I would ask Him words to bend the reality
In a hundred, a thousand pages and then ... nothing more
From which winter ... what a plug
From which winter ... what a punishment
From which winter ... which hand
From which farewell will I save
But here is no longer live
But here it does not exist anymore
In this hell
We forget what we really are
What we really are
From which winter (who you are - and will not find us) ... which plug
From which winter ... what a punishment
From which winter (who you are) ... which hand
From which farewell (if there is any) ...
From which winter ... which plug (who you are)
From which hell I will be born again