Sovietwave Mix Soviet Wave

Игра в эго

translation below

черные подолы
тлеют на земле.
ветер раскидает
угольки во тьме.
ее больше нет здесь,
и за три версты
в утреннем тумане не найти следы.

гори, костер, гори!

ах, согрелись все стихи в моей груди,
растает лед,
пройдет и твоя боль и тоска
растопит их моя (твоя?) искра
ах, согрелись все стихи в моей груди,
растает лед,
пройдет и твоя боль и тоска 
гори, гори, будь ласка!

острые колени,
мягкие шипы,
золотые вспышки —
тени до луны
«ее больше нет здесь» —
улыбнулся ты.
я тебя увидела в капельках росы.

гори, костер, гори!

eng:

black hems glow on the ground. the wind scatters embers in the darkness. she's no longer here, and for three miles In the morning mist, there are no traces to find.

burn, bonfire, burn!

ah, all the verses in my chest have warmed up, the ice will melt, your pain and sorrow will pass, my (your?) spark will melt them away. ah, all the verses in my chest have warmed up, the ice will melt, your pain and sorrow will pass,

burn, burn, please!

sharp knees, soft thorns, golden flashes — shadows to the moon.
"she's no longer here" — you smiled. I saw you in the dewdrops.

burn, bonfire, burn!

Koster

🎧

FEEL IT - Slowed & Reverb

O//TXT_056 – Burn Until Silence
We no longer remember the exact moment the fire began.
Perhaps it had been burning for a long time, silent, invisible,
hidden in the folds of the words we never spoke.

We told ourselves that silence was protection.
That holding back was salvation.
But every unspoken sentence piled up like dry dust,
ready to ignite at the first spark.

When it came, the fire did not scream.
It did not destroy out of vengeance.
It consumed slowly, illuminating for a brief instant
everything we had buried in the shadows.
It revealed memories we thought extinct,
faces erased by time,
and promises we had let die in the waiting.

Then, when the last flame went out,
we remained alone, wrapped in a silence that was not empty.
It was a dense presence,
breathing in our place,
keeping what we had not dared to say.

Now we know that silence does not comfort.
It inherits.
And once it does, it never returns anything.

And when the ash settles even on the last name,
who will remain to testify that we ever existed?

В леса

PRIRODA

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