Something I wrote long time ago and translated much, much later as a part of the game. I'm not used to write such short texts, I have always had problems with that. But I was in the mood, that is why. Maybe I'm in the mood right now, that is why I'm posting it here.
It is called Lake. — I would like to know what thoughts occupy you. If you do not tell me, I would not survive the winter. I would wither and die, like those willows whose hearts have been deserted by their owners. They forgot everything, murmuring the names that never counted, weaving the cloth of future that would never come. See them? Their branches are bare, leafless, forgotten. They do not even feel the warmth of the sun or glittering dust from butterfly’s wings. I would like to know how your heart is. The only thing I hear is a gentle whisper, I can not distinguish the words, and I can not hear them. Are those words? Can you see those birches over there? I heard there was a great secret about their birth day. Some say they are the Moon’s lovers. And among us, they are the greatest singers ever born. Their songs are like creating what they sing about. If they sing about rain, you shudder from droplets, if they sing about mountains, you feel the ominous presence of the sky-pitching rocks, hard and dark as the very first night. And there was this great story. One of them once sang about a fire. And the whole world has been set on fire. The flames burned everything leaving the soil bare and scorched, rocks crushed, and the sky bleak. And the very first of them sang about the silver Moon. And moths and bats have brought an answer to her song. The Moon embraced her and laid kisses on her, and in a nighttime she became white. To her shame and pride in the same time. Shame, because every living creature knows that she and her clan betrayed others by loving the Moon, and she herself felt pride in her heart. That is why they always grow in groups, to keep their secrets, to treasure the first caress given by now cold Moon.
I know where the secrets lay in the depth of your heart. I want to know them. If you let me in, I will ease your pain and coldness, I will comfort you in your dark dreams…
— Young idealist. — murmured the lake and moved one small surge. The coming wave covered fragile flower among the pebbles and sand and smothered it.
