Истерика [Isterika] [English translation]

In this city is color, the color of lanterns,

Everything is ready for a feat, for a war.

This month the rain piles onto the snow,

And the silent beating of drums.

Here, it's the moon that decides which,

Which star is worth falling for today.

Here, my eyes, they don't see,

How they are sick.

My body no longer belongs to me, it's only a miserable part of me,

A pathetic hope.

But in me has always been a hysteric!

Such a wild word, what a game,

How hysterical!

Hysterical, but I control myself,

Simply tired, simply tired, but I own myself.

Such a wild word, a wild word, a hysterical word!

What's wrong with me, is it my excitement,

I don't feel the rhythm of my temples,

Like this heart

That denied me everything.

A vice lies somewhere between a city of stones.

A tired wind howls alone.

Here my body builds a fire,

I hear a frantic, frantic, frantic, frantic laughter,

And somehow all my work falls from my hands.

Where is my strength, my love, my freedom,

What, oh what sins are with me?

All of a sudden hope expects me, for what?

My, my beating hysteria,

Such a terrible meal, such a terrible pain

I'm hysterical!

What end is desired?

How long will my hysteria last,

I know that soon it'll be over,

Only, it'll leave wounds, a lucky end for sure.

I never thought such deeps wounds would be easy,

This is how I end my hysteria!

Thanks to the wind, I'm with you, wind.

City, snow.

Along with a song that leaves a lasting pain.

Winds carry my life across the ocean,

And I'm with you, laughing with you,

Thanks to you, winds.

In this city is color, the color of lanterns,

Everything is ready for a feat, for a war.

This month the rain piles onto the snow,

And the silent beating of drums.

• Artist:Piknik (Russia)
• Album:Вампирские песни