zugzwang

Любовь Глебовна Копылова
The page crumpling lived years,
 I leave the book of life without a plot.
 I can't find such a transition,
 To complete the story about this.
 
 Negligent acts, the meanings are blurred,
 Reflections and texts are imperfect.
 And the irony of the phrases hung like despair,
 Over the character passing quests.
 
 The crumpled page of the past year,
 On the line of fate accidentally & nbsp; held.
 And memory of the missing freedom,
 For a new scenario remained.