Trapped In The Mirror...

I've found a Mirror in the old house,
And now it stands in my room.
Its whimsical frame and a muddy glass
Filled my house with the breathing of doom.
The morbid sense of antiquity
And some strange inexplicable power,
Keeping me speechless and weak,
Compels my attention for hours.

Sometimes from the depth of the mirror
Bleak image of the pretty girl appears.

Once I saw a nightmare.
I found myself in that house
I heard, that a loathsome witch
Monotoned witchery spells for hours.

The girl is in a graceful lacy dress,
Which was in fashion some centuries ago.
The curls of her thick and silky hair
Lie on her shoulders, as white as snow.

On the floor of the room
Is a lifeless girl,
Just beside her – a blur
Of still fresh and warm blood.
And it seems,
That a moment ago
Her flesh was disturbed
By the beating of heart.

Look into Mirror,
Give it your soul,
The power of glass
Will grow and grow.

The beldam has killed her
And imprisoned her soul in a mirror
So each time, when she looks
At herself through its space
She can see the young image
Instead of an old face.
In the dream I run
To the mirror again,
But, despite of all efforts
I cannot gain.
And in order to ruin
The power of spell,
I know I should break
The Mirror of Hell.

It is the girl, which I've seen before.
The dress, the curls and snow-white face,
The woe flies around her lurid flesh
And yonder the mirror majesticly raises.