Текст песни Г.Тимановский - Уставший крик.

That's the cry of my tired
 All screaming into the void of the miraculous.
 I'm lost here, and maybe gone,
 Poems filled my place here.
 So I choke on his own words,
 The fingers are sore from the strings.
 But there is no urine sing, that's lucky,
 So sing, though perhaps not to the court.

 Ex: There is no freedom if hurt inside,
     No rest, if the flame is burning.
     The cry of a crow does not know the nightingale,
     You hear the prayer? It's me.

 You give me a minute, say nothing about life,
 Adopt my heart for a moment.
 What I dream, what I want,
 Shout, yes tired my cry.
 You take your guitar, but merge with me,
 Let's sing together.
 Hard one in this earthly life,
 So come let us lodge together.