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🎧 Audio 2 (in progress):
🔺 "My Bonfire | Gypsy Song"
My fire shines in the fog;
Sparks go out in flight...
No one will meet us at night;
We will say goodbye on the bridge.
The night will pass - and early in the morning
Into the steppe, far away, my dear,
I will go with a crowd of gypsy women
Behind a nomadic kibitka.
At parting, tie a shawl
With a border on me with a knot:
Like its ends, with you
We met in these days.
Will someone predict my fate?
Who tomorrow, my falcon,
Will untie on my chest
The knot you tied?
Remember me, when another woman,
Loving a dear friend,
Will sing songs, playing
On your lap!
My fire shines in the fog;
Sparks go out in flight...
No one will meet us at night;
We will say goodbye on the bridge.
🔺 "My Bonfire | Gypsy Song"
The sparks of a campfire flickering in the misty gloom, like reflections of our quiet dreams. We are left alone, surrounded by the mysterious peace of the night. Every word uttered on the bridge is filled with a piercing sense of parting, and the whisper of the wind becomes evidence of our love. At the same time, fragments of bright memories are carried away into oblivion. At night, when silence sounds sharper than music, the heart freezes with sadness and tenderness, because the light of all our hopes and desires lives in every spark. And let the paths part, but our common fire, which once warmed our souls in the fog of dreams, will always remain in our memory.
Forever in the Memory.
"The Reeds" ◀ ▶ "In House Number 8"
- Collection of melodies: "There Were Meetings"
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