Люди бежали подальше от черных ворот.
Воздух, отравленный дымом, густел и густел.
Горел небосвод, горели город и порт.
И где-то ребенок потерянный плакал и пел:
«Пепел. Пепел»
Горели дома, города исчезали бесследно.
Весь мир, охваченный болью и злобой, горел.
Пока короли пировали, считая победы,
Потерянный маленький мальчик от голода ел
Пепел. Пепел.
Люди молились, с надеждой глядя на небо.
Кто-то стоял на коленях, кто-то сидел.
«Хлеба. Дай же нам хлеба. Хоть капельку хлеба»
Но небо как прежде молчало, и сверху летел
Лишь пепел. Пепел. Пепел. Пепел.
People ran away from the black gates.
The air, poisoned by smoke, thickened and thickened.
The firmament was burning, the city and the port were burning.
And somewhere the lost child cried and sang:
"Ash. Ash"
Houses were burning, cities disappeared without a trace.
The whole world, seized by pain and anger, burned.
While kings feasted on victories
Lost little boy from hunger ate
Ash. Ash.
People prayed, looking up to heaven with hope.
Someone was on his knees, someone was sitting.
"Of bread. Give us some bread. At least a drop of bread "
But the sky was silent as before, and flew from above
Only ash. Ash. Ash. Ash.
