She knows, she brings sorrow,
but remembers her duties
plaiting oriole´s cry into her fair hair
And somewhere a boat is floating
on the dark waves and axes are heard,
the Sun is hiding in brushwood at dusk...
Oh! But soon it will be sunny,
soon it will be bright,
soon you will hear the last song
of the lost cruiser.
Soon it will be bright,
soon it will be kind,
soon your eyes will be
full of unknown colours...
Just remember your look is like a shot
under the arch of an old temple,
your horse won´t stumble, flying over the stones,
flying through the jasmine scent.
This feeling is stronger than any bear,
higher than any crane,
the rest is just mud and duckweed...
I want to burn quietly in hot flame
of non-existent fires,
to hide myself in lines of an open book,
and you still watch a movie, looking for yourself
among grey stones,
but it´s only me who knows
what remained behind the scene.
Soon it will be sunny,
soon it will be windy,
you already know the answer
to an unwritten letter.
Soon it will be windy,
soon it will be sunny.
Soon he will step out of the window,
and everything will be gone.