Ruth White - Spleen | Текст песни

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• Ruth White
• Spleen

When the low heavy sky weighs like a lid
on the spirit aching for the light.
And when embracing the horizon, it pours on us
a black day which is sadder than any night.

When the Earth is turned into a gripping dungeon
in which hope like a bat flutters blindly.
And bruises its timid wing and tender head
against the walls and rotted ceilings.

When the rain, stretching down its long streaks of water
imitates the bars of an enormous prison.
And a silent throng of loathsome spiders come
and weave their webs inside our brains.

And suddenly the bells swing angrily,
and hurl their hideous uproar into the sky
like a band of wandering spirits
who weigh over them, listening.

And long hearses, without drums, or music,
move in a slow procession through my soul.
And defeated hope bursts into tears.
And the feirce tyrant, anguish, sets its black banner on my bowed head.

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