Фарамир и Захар - Мой замок стоит текст песни

My castle stands on a steep cliff
In the distant, misty mountains,
I erected it in the dark of night,
With a curse on her pale lips.

In the high castle nobody lives
Only I had the proud king,
Yes night descends from the wild heights
Cruel, mocking troll.

At the far cliff, cowardly and ridiculous
He holds an insidious speech
But feels that the sword for him in store,
Not knowing pity sword.

One day I was sitting in purple golden,
Burned my diamond crown -
And knocked on the door of a young singer,
Homeless, wandering singer.

For everyone who is rich in courage and strength,
Opened the doors of the palace;
In the purple hall, I was glad to hear
Mad speech singer.

With beautiful harp he became motionless,
He rang trembling string,
And galloped wildly through the halls of my
Harmony sick song.

"I was walking alone in the night starless
In the mountains from ledge to ledge
And he saw over the dark abyss,
As marble white, female corpse.

"Eked out a snake on the ledges,
Grew sullen thistle,
And over the beautiful female corpse
Mad wandering minstrel.

"And death wonderful dream disturbing,
He was shaking a tambourine in her hand,
Over the world virgin bed
Danced in a dunce cap.

"Hardly rang bells,
Without giving away in the mountains,
Cheap rings sparkled
The narrow, wrinkled hands.

"He laughed, funny, toothless,
Jumping on the gloomy hills,
And lips pressed patients
To cold, girlish lips.

"And I went, took questions
Confusing their deity
But above this cliff
Have not seen anything in the world. "

I listen for more than a madman could not
I raised my glittering sword,
Singer I gave a bloody flower
As a reward for daring speech.

Flower zaziyal at high breast
Beautifully burning crimson ...
"Crazy singer, you're terrible, go away."
But livid singer.

Broken strings, ringing drawl,
As I broke his harp
For the fact that he made me cry,
Proud ruler tombs.

As before in the mists can not see the beam,
As before wandering troll
He poor knows boyasya sword
What overbearing king weeps.

Still quiet lonely palace,
In it, three, it just three:
Sad king and killed singer
And his wild song.