Текст песни Calm gothic - Сны Тутанхамона

You draw circles in the open source of heaven
Touching the bottomless wave of the ocean, from the book of living you disappeared,
And the wind over the world strangers and ridiculous dispelled pages scraps,
Erasing from the thoughts of human silhouettes of blind insensites.

Through the caustic smoke of current centuries draw a coral sleep,
Forget about the living, you are on the throne of heaven, my little Tutankhamon.

My cute ruler, lives are not worth your royal alarms,
Your cradle on the waves of golden shakes a non-brightest God.
What do you see in the sweet dreams of the gate to the Fatherland bottom?
What patterns of patient consciousness gossip colored glass?

Through the caustic smoke of current centuries draw a coral sleep,
Forget about the living, you are on the throne of heaven, my little Tutankhamon.

All brighter and brighter sparkles the immortal star dust in the sun,
And in the pink quartz of the pre-orders of the sky, the spire is entered with needle,
Join your temple on the rights of Mr., my little Tutankhamon,
The solemn anthem will revive the return of the house for a long time.

Through the caustic smoke of current centuries draw a coral sleep,
Forget about the living, you are on the throne of heaven, my little Tutankhamon.

(on poems Sweet Curse)