Our

The chaotic age carries into the distance,

And in the stream of worries

We only see a refusal

From all meanings,

And from a dream…

All

Heroes in the past are like smoke

They remain, and they

There is no place among us

Their struggle is stupid,

Gloomy features

But maybe,

The hero of the coming years is wiser and kinder:

He knows the true faces of people

Without condemnation,

And without embellishment

No, he's not God:

He himself is trapped in the capricious flesh of the vice,

He will not go to the cross for our sins,

But he is capable

Fix us

Our

The hero is devoid of many properties,

Appearing, sometimes,

Noble to us:

Duty, honor and pride,

Guilt and shame,

He

Love feeds us all,

But only then,

To be happier yourself,

And that in the world

Live longer

Yes, we are funny!

We so want to measure by the measure of the earth

The morality of a different life unknown to us,

What about us, maybe,

Still will save

We don 't know,

What power is hidden inside her,

What a fire of a distant bright dawn

Another world,

Where we are doesn't count

Yes, you are not God!

You will not go to the cross for our sins

So frivolous and so human

We can't be fixed

In this way

But only you

Will you be able to find the way to the dream through eternity,

To carry your light through billions of years,

Without extinguishing it, without going astray

We all, maybe