Есть в груди моей птица, Ей внутри не...

There is a bird in my chest
She can't sit inside
Too hard old breasts.
I say sit still
And don't be afraid, coward,
You and I will live somehow.

There is a bird in my chest
She can't sit in her chest
My chest is too hard.
I say: sit still,
You're in the ribs of a psycho
You are my mind, since the body is a snake.

There is a bird in my chest
She can't sit in her chest
At night I let her fly.
And everyone is asleep and does not know
What flies over the roof
My bird, my grace.

There is a bird in my chest
She can't sit in her chest
In the early morning all the birds sing.
I tell her: "Quiet!"
And then tears are like mice
They gnaw the hardened soul.
(c) C. Bukowski