My house is on fire, a burning fire burns
everywhere, these curtains and carpets
are full of fabrics,
I run in every direction, crying in the flames of a smokey fire,
between my laughter, bitter and roaring, my crying burns
unhappy, tired from within, screaming, screaming, scream
Woe to me, to the eyes, to the door, and to the wall, in the night of disgrace without the shore,
woe to me!
Woe to me, burn and burn, the buds that I have cultivated with difficulty in the mouth of the pots, the hard days of sickness
, the difficult days of illness from the rooftops, the
joy of your enemies, the laughter of their victory over my leader, the fire of the last soulIn the shelter of this lattice of the night, I blow in every direction, crying from rampant, crying, crying, oh
shout, oh shout,
woe to me, this fire is still burning what I have, what I have, the memento, the notebook, the wall, and what has a view. And Ivan, with my hands full of blisters, I turn this side out, I turn off the flame from the wretched sense, rise from the flame to
the dawn, who knows that it was me, I will be destroyed, I am
asleep, my neighbors are unkind, I am left in the
bed in the morning, a handful of ashes are left behind
. Wai....
Wow, do they not rise from the kind soil of my neighbors after the heart,
this fire builds a rampant shout...
Oh shout...
Oh shout...
