(Стихотворение написано по визуальному стимулу -
фотография Сергея Парышкова)
There are more roads stretching before me than I can count.
The wind has been whispering secrets of riches and splendour.
So why does this night feel so barren and hard to surmount?
I've been on this journey for longer than I can remember.
My lips have been cracked, my skin has been weathered and tanned.
I've chosen this life and let go of my earthly tether.
The hotheaded vagabond, freely traversing the land,
The desperate truth-seeker, trying to pull it together.
Am I moving forward or is this whole venture a lie?
The shadows creep in as my doubts start to unravel.
The bloody-red dusk is spilling all over the sky.
There are more roads stretching before me than I can travel.