Paroles et traduction Аркона - Bol’no mne

Bol’no mne

Chto vizhu ya skvozʹ pelenu
Zatmivshuyu nashi glaznitsy?
I chuvstvo nemoe, chto v smute glubinnoĭ tait·sya
YA vizhu bezmolvnoĭ prirody goryashchie dushi
Stradavshikh ot lyuda ruki ilʹ usopshikh v udushʹe
Skvozʹ bolʹ, vdykhaya otravlennyĭ vozdukh ot gari
Bez slez, stonaya bezmolvno, oni umirali
Skvozʹ omuty grez, chto vizhu ya vsyudu?
Krik stradanʹya berez ot bezdushnogo lyuda
Bolʹno mne...
Bolʹno, da ot zhala khladnogo nozha
Tikho umirala, dlanyami drozha
Rany, na zemʹ krovʹ ronyaya po vesne
Gorʹko, da-li silʹno, silʹno bolʹno mne!
Sladko moi korni spali vo zemle
Dlani pelenal-da tuman na zare
Gryeet, obzhigaya dushu, bolʹ moya
Tikho i bezmolvno umirayu ya
Kholod…
Drev mertvye stany…
Ikh dlanʹ obzhigaet menya skvozʹ pronzayushchiĭ svet
Chrez stoletiya rany my vzvoem ot boli
Chto nas bolʹshe net.
Tolʹko kholod i bolʹ
Vdykhaya otravlennyĭ vozdukh ot gari
Bez slez, stonaya, bezmolvno oni umirali
Skvozʹ omuty grez, chto vizhu ya vsyudu
Plach bezmolvnykh berez nevedomyĭ lyudu

It hurts me

What do I see through the veil
That has clouded our eyes?
And the mute feeling that hides in the depths of sorrow
I see the burning souls of silent nature
The suffering hands of people or those who perished in the suffocating smoke
Through pain, inhaling the poisoned air from the fire
Without tears, moaning silently, they died
Through the pools of dreams, what do I see everywhere?
The cry of suffering of birches from a soulless man
It hurts me...
It hurts, yes from the sting of a cold knife
I was dying quietly, my hands trembling
Wounds, dripping blood on the ground in spring
Bitterly, yes, very, very painful for me!
My roots slept sweetly in the ground
My hands were swaddled in fog at dawn
Warms, burning my soul, my pain
Quietly and silently I am dying
Cold...
Dead trees stand...
Their hand burns me through the piercing light
Through the centuries, we scream from the pain of wounds
That we are no more.
Only cold and pain
Inhaling the poisoned air from the fire
Without tears, moaning, silently they died
Through the pools of dreams, what do I see everywhere
The silent cry of birches unknown to man