Ïåðåðîæäåíèå.
What is beauty compared to grief
×òî òàêîå êðàñîòà â ñðàâíåíèè ñ ãîðåì
What is joy in league with sorrow
Èëè ðàäîñòü â ñîþçå ñ ïå÷àëüþ
A dead rushes' fleet drifting on a quiet tide
Ýòî ôëîò ì¸ðòâûõ ïîðûâîâ, äðåéôóþùèõ òèõèìè âîëíàìè
N' does a sunset know its worth
Íåò, çàêàò çíàåò, ÷åãî ñòîèò
Making yesterday tomorrow
Ñäåëàé, ÷òîáû ïðîøåäøèé äåíü ñòàë çàâòðàøíèì
Is there a silence on this earth before every tear's been cried
Íåóæåëè íà ýòîé çåìëå öàðèò òèøèíà, ïðåæäå, ÷åì ïðîëüþòñÿ ñë¸çû
For you, for you
Äëÿ òåáÿ, äëÿ òåáÿ
I would bring down the heavens on this earth
ß ïåðåòàùèë áû íåáåñà íà çåìëþ
For you, for you
Äëÿ òåáÿ, äëÿ òåáÿ
I would even trust the devil for rebirth
ß áû äàæå äüÿâîëó äîâåðèë ïåðåðîæäåíèå
With every road once paved with gold
Ñ êàæäîé äîðîãîé,êîãäà-òî âûìîùåííîé çîëîòîì
Both hands with a heart to hold
Ôîðìà äâóõ äåðæàùèõñÿ ðóê, îáðàçóþùèõ ñåðäöå
How could we look past all the stories we have told
Êàê ìû ìîæåì çàáûòü âñå èñòîðèè, êîòîðûå ðàññêàçàëè
Could we lose ourselves again
Ìîæåì ëè ìû ñíîâà ïîòåðÿòü ñåáÿ
In a childlike faith
 äåòñêîé âåðå
Trust the wishing well, dance like Tinker Bell
Äîâåðÿé êîëîäöó æåëàíèé, òàíöóé, êàê Äèíü-äèíü
For you, for you
Äëÿ òåáÿ, äëÿ òåáÿ
I would walk forever through this barren land
ß áû âå÷íî áðîäèë ïî ýòîé áåñïëîòíîé çåìëå
For you, for you
Äëÿ òåáÿ, äëÿ òåáÿ
I would hold a deadly viper in my hand
ß áû äåðæàë â ðóêå êîáðó
For you, for you
Äëÿ òåáÿ, äëÿ òåáÿ
I would bring down the heavens on this earth
ß ïåðåòàùèë áû íåáåñà íà çåìëþ
For you, for you
Äëÿ òåáÿ, äëÿ òåáÿ
I would even trust the devil for rebirth
ß áû äàæå äüÿâîëó äîâåðèë ïåðåðîæäåíèå
*ïåðåâîä ìîé è Google / îðèãèíàëüíûé òåêñò ãðóïïû '' Poets of the Fall ''.