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about

music, photo: Alexander Bozhday (Penza, Russia)
german texts: Karin Tarabochia (Schwarzenberg, Austria)
russian texts: Nata Boundariver (Moscow, Russia)

lyrics

DEEP WALK (pidgin-version)

I walking carefully, knowing that each of meeting can be my friend.
And so, on one of turns I see - the street is completely empty.
From these thoughts - the cars are stopping.
From these thoughts - the windows are opening.
And people look at me.

And so strongly remind of something their songs.
And so familiar seems their voices.
But nearness is lost forever.

It's just the air movement.

*

Full of doubts I go by night through the garden,
because fear uses (wastes) courage and feeds worries.
For the fifth time I run to the beach to look the wild sea,
fascinatedly watching the water mountains, which are scudding.
Hard to let go the doubts, because my heart is deaf.
However, only the bright window counts.

*

The memory - there on the bottom of the lake.
The deep black lake.
On watersides of the forgotten
grows the new days
and bright new smiles.
And in the eyes of people
there are nothing,
what would reminded me

that i losed.

*

The night has made off,
A few feathers still in the field
in the morning sun.
Night plumage, dark-black, bluish black,
and heavy cloths, velvet and taffeta –
now they lie somewhere else.
I am seeking the step from yesterday,
that lead me here, but don't go him any more.
I see the scarp in the stone,
in the rock I understand the night,
why and how she changed me
and I hand over her dress to the morning.
New territory in which my breath writes.

*

Believing that something has changed
in these new faces,
looking as the old,
I'm going through one street,
second,
third,
stop in order not to get lost,
and the past does not matter,
because I don't see it:
my eyes are filled with the light of a new day.
Houses shiftes imperceptibly,
Trees moves with spurts of my steps.
I wonder again. Carefully.

In order to pass through myself.

*

Stranded and come upon land,
Cat's tail which came from far away.
I roll my words across rocks to the silver valley
and rise newborn from the spirals of dark night,
encased in morning light and morning mood.
Golden eyes release me
to light and shade, to the sparkling shine.
Thousand voices call me into the day.

credits

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