Оригинален текст
when I felt
for the first time
the pistol at my temple
I feel
as a small insect
which surpassed levels
negligibility
I feel terribly inferior ta
the bullet would kill me the brain
and everything is ultimately, my problems
would be, but not so,
Now I'm just a spirit,
a ghost of solitude
my life was a paradise
compared to
this hell this
that will be my in 100 years
I want to know
separating my future in my past
a bullet in my brain not finished everything