NEBUGOR - Бремя шамана
текст песни

Hush now, hush...

The fire breathes...

It hears—yes, it hears—names whispered in black...

Every ember holds someone's fear,

Held fast in my old, bony hands.

I walk behind a wall of snow;

The tracks I leave are not my own,

Nor is the burden that I bear.

Every scream is lost within the sky;

Every breath turns into searing heat.

The dogs fall silent

When I pass by.

Even the blizzard does not stand in my way.

Those...

Who sleep...

Have entrusted their flesh to me;

And their souls—I could not turn them away.







This is my time, Mother—

A place...

Where for everyone else it is too late, but for me, it is early.

I bargain for the sake of those...

Who no longer breathe,

Bargaining with those...

Whom no one else can hear.

This is the shaman's burden, Mother—

My own shadow...

Feels like another's wound.

If I choose life, I cannot sleep;

If I choose death, I will dream of nothing at all.







Bones hang from the belt at my waist;

Every sound is someone's breath...

Someone's moan.

I seek no special reward,

Save for the right to return to my home.

I burn my own self down to ash,

To cool the hearts of others.

I rasp in the ancient tongue of pain,

Pleading that the guest be allowed to live.




This is my time, Mother—

A place...

Where for everyone else it is too late, but for me, it is early.

I bargain for the sake of those...

Who no longer breathe,

Bargaining with those...

Whom no one else can hear.

This is the shaman's burden, Mother—

My own shadow...

Feels like another's wound.

If I choose life, I cannot sleep;

If I choose death, I will dream of nothing at all.




Sometimes I ask for something for myself,

And the answer drifts back like falling ash:

"You are the one who bound them all to the heavens—

So now...

You are the one who must untangle the nets."

I laugh...

Embracing the bonfire;

My chest fills choked with thick smoke.

If I were to cease being the doorway...

Who then would dare to bring you back? It is time, Mom.

Out there—

Where for everyone else it is already too late—

I arrive early.

I bargain for those

Who no longer breathe,

With those

Whom no one will ever hear.

This is the shaman’s burden, Mom—

My own shadow

Feels like a stranger’s wound.

If I choose life—I cannot sleep;

If I choose death—I will dream of nothing.