When winter will come,
When February will advance,
And a black streetlamp
Will turn yellow as amber -
I will tell myself to be silent
And not to enter that house.
Someone will wonder
As to what the trouble is.
I never before visited
My home as frequently as now
And I dreamed of a telephone,
But it means nothing to me now.
But this is just a frontier for which I am ready,
I am throwing away my dreams of old.
I forget everything, turn off the light.
There is no world but those to whom I have grown attached,
With whom there's no need for pointless talking,
Just living together and feeling alive.
When the sea winds will blow strongly,
I will try to lie down right away and sleep,
I have decided that completely and a long time ago.
I will be ready for every sound,
But nobody in that house will make a move,
Blaming the blown out tires of their car.
But this is just a frontier for which I am ready,
I'm throwing away my dreams of old.
I forget everything, turn off the light.
There is no world but those to whom I have grown attached,
With whom there's no need for pointless talking,
Just living together and feeling alive.
When many years go by and I return to that house,
Where there is eternal cold, with fire or without,
Its mistress will greet me and glance at the clock.
And then I'll know that my home burned down.
I abandoned everything, and yet I survived,
But why did I return to you again?
Since this is just a frontier for which I am ready,
I'm throwing away my dreams of old.
I forget everything, turn off the light.
There is no world but those to whom I have grown attached,
With whom there's no need for pointless talking,
Just living together and feeling alive.