что стоит [Chto Stoit] [English translation]

I was staying alone with a broken soul for so long,

The lines that I gave birth to (created) for long are on the floor ripped up [I assume talking about ripped papers with lyrics he wrote…]

Are grieving along with me around garbage, another drama

Another dead-end at the end of the road

My legs can keep going but there is nowhere to go.

I break my head, I pass my hand on my face,

Dry skin- on the way tears are dripping inside.

Perhaps it is age or perhaps just tiredness

To blame oneself for everything, what is this feeling worth,

When youth is on the outside – inside is senescence.

I try to live but I fall on the floor again with the glass [talking about alcohol]

Is it worth to seek that what you will lose later?

Is this pain worth those instantaneous pleasures?

Are years of agony worth a few happy minutes?

The mirage of heaven, if there is hell than it is here.

I understand the strings of the guitar filled with beer.

Cheek bones are compressed in the reflection, the glance is unconcerned.

Oh God, so many ways, so many routes,

For our souls, fallen again, your doors will open,

And each will finally understand what is worth… (or that it’s worth it…)

That it is worth the sleepless night,

That it is worth this day without dreams.

That it is worth the endless solitude

And life without love …

The absence of benefit from your own self,

Going into disputes with the strong and in so doing remaining loudly silent.

Neither shield, nor sword with sleeves rolled.

Awaited the ray of light, had to leave the shadow of the hangman.

Our own sins dragging in bags on the beaten shoulders.

When a dream burned, as a candle burns,

You can no longer return it even if loudly screaming.

They call a doctor, they cry - this means nothing.

They confuse receiving with the delivery, they fool each other, [sentence not translated word by word]

But there in the stage something doesn’t click, stress jumps.

Failure in the systematical program, void on the screen,

There are no strings on the guitar, we are covered with flowers.

Perhaps we just got tired of existing, we stopped

Listening to that, what they always tried to tell us,

We tried to ask the question: What are we worth with you?

That it is worth this sleepless night,

That it is worth this day without dreams,

That it is worth the endless loneliness…

And life without love…

I was looking for so long what I didn’t know yet,

I thought I found love but it turned out to be a ripped scar.

The doors of my soul are sealed up once again,

Coals in the eyes and not fires, reality devoured my dreams,

And life overturned dreams.

I wander alone by autumnal pavements,

I hold tears in my eyes, I smile at couples,

I try to keep living. Perhaps that is how it should be?

Perhaps loneliness is my reward? Truth (or it is true).

But I am not happy about this at all.

That it is worth this sleepless night,

That it is worth this day without dreams,

That it is worth the endless solitude

And life without love…