Rustle of Lips

Paper rustle of your lips is not needed to her really, You're a knight, but your heart weeps, You were brave, why are you thrilling? You would strip your zealous sword, But there are no foes in moment, It would sing and say a word loudly-loudly without torment. And your ballads have no sense, You're not worthy for the beauty, All your deeds don't give a chance, Take it easy, slave of duty. Because love does not take out sword that's frozen in the scabbard, Hear, how useless pure souls shout, You are hero in worn tabard. No one's happy to your flags, Courage now must be forgotten, Ballads die, they lie in wrecks, Paper burns, the flame is gotten. All will pass, they're angry, rude, There's no point for her crying, Drown out tubes, put on your hood, She won't answer to your trying. And no matter if heart weeps, Here are many who're no thrilling, Paper rustle of your lips won't confess: I love you, really.