Fairy tale

My soul tightens to the point of madness

in the arms of his solitude.

I'm single, and that's what they say to me

my mouth is glued shut...

Don't chase me, I'll be gone soon

I came here to the crying storm.

I'll sit next to your head, right here

and I'll tell you a story,

in which he taught an evil lesson

a sage of old.

A robber wandered all his life

and never returned home,

instead of a heart, hidden under his shirt

he carried an evil and bloody dagger.

He overcame dead caravans

and only for a day hid his knife,

and his knife did not catch rust,

the man was as bad as the devil.

But who knows, one time from fatigue

and he fell asleep at the crossroads.

He was kicked by the hurrying people

and no one stopped at his head,

but only a ragged little girl

his forehead covered with a leaf.

He wept for the first time loved,

cried he, the robber, why?

What warmed that hard heart,

never warmed in life!

A hand made then,

tears of sight in blood to flow.

A hand warmer than a hearth,

gave the thug that

which he would not buy for anything

not with a robbery dear, not with a severed head.

But you fell asleep and I'm so cold

that fairy girl, where is she?

It warmed the robber, and me

you never get so warm, why?