Tag "Mental prison" - Works and Original stories

She didn't know exactly when his shadow crept into her life. It began with an ethereal touch — barely perceptible, almost imperceptible. In the morning, her favorite cup would be slightly shifted, and her phone would sometimes treacherously disappear just when she needed to call someone. But he wasn't here. Perhaps somewhere beyond sight, beyond reach, but not here. Or was he?

In the dark twilight forest, where the deafening silence whispered secrets, two lonely apple trees stood separated by the ruthless time. Their branches, once entwined in a gentle embrace, now reached out to each other, desperately trying to reunite.

The tree's roots reach deep into the ground, As her memory in his heart is found. Its branches stretch towards the sky, A testament to love that cannot die.

In ancient E sands, where secrets lie, Archaeologists dig, their hearts on high. They seek the truth, a tale untold, Of a tyrant's fall, a love grown cold.

No longer will she seek love's embrace, For in her phantom heart, it finds no place, Instead, she'll find solace in memories' embrace, And learn to live with love's eternal grace.

A small village has taken refuge in the depths of the dense forest. The white huts and golden domes of the church shone under the rays of the morning sun, like exquisite jewelry decorating a natural landscape...

Once there was a sky so bright, With clouds as white as snow, But now it seems the light has gone, Leaving us all in woe.

Once upon a time, there were people in the beautiful city of Memory who were fascinated by past events from birth. In this city, every house was built from forgotten moments and memories of past residents. The streets were laid out in a mosaic of lost memories, as if every step awakened an invisible part of history. People walking along these paths seemed to be imbued with the past, remaining prisoners in their own memory.

In a land where dreams take flight, I ventured forth, enchanted by the sight. A shimmering lake, crystal clear, Mirroring the moon in hues so sheer.

And then there's the cloud that mimics a smile, Radiating joy, and happiness worthwhile. A reminder that even in the darkest of days, There's kindness and love, that never strays.

In a magical book, a heroine did dwell, With words that caught hearts and weave a spell. She danced through chapters, a captivating sight, Drawing readers in with her enchanting light.

Once, in a distant world, in a huge flowering meadow, there lived a little bee. She was, without a doubt, the sweetest and most beautiful bee in the hive. Her wings shone like iridescent rainbow drops, and her body was covered with noble, golden fur, like a precious ring.

beauty is inside

In a quiet corner of my soul, like a bright light, a spark of hope always burned, breaking through the dullness of everyday days. The nameless hero of this sad story was myself – a simple mortal collecting fireflies, illusory emotions personified by their light light bodies.

Snow-white blankets gently covered the ground, like a curtain separating me from the rest of the world. I lay alone in the snow, in a near-death doze, feeling my every breath melt into the cold air. The narcotic coolness enveloped my body like the icy fingers of death, but at the same time it awakened memories that had long warmed my heart.

A gray wall of high clouds covered the sky, casting its sad shadow on the lifeless streets with tightly curtained windows. In this urban anxiety, where life was losing its meaning, every day put residents in danger. More and more people filled the streets in search of safety, and bulletproof vests became their last hope.

One day, on a quiet winter day, at sunset, a small bullet decided to tell its story. She was small and shiny, like a star in the sky. Reflecting the light, she shone and attracted the attention of everyone who looked at her.

One little girl was sitting on the ocean shore and looking at the endless expanse of water. Her gray eyes reflected the reflections of the sunset, and her hair was highlighted by the rays of the sun. The silence of the surrounding nature merged with her quiet breathing, and the light shimmered in her sad eyes like magic butterfly wings.

There was a hug robot in a quiet corner of the small workshop. Its shiny metal shell radiated a gentle radiance, like stars in a cloudless sky. His large eyes, which were made of delicate glass, flickered like two sad candles burning separation.

Free-style translation of poem 'The Black Man' by Russian poet Sergey Esenin.