Birch Book - Song Of The Nightingale | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Birch Book
• Song Of The Nightingale

I have seen the nightingale
singing in the moonlight, free the nightingale
did not know that upon in my spied.
He interrupts himself at times,
his head inclined, as if he's listening
within himself to the lenght of a note that's died down …
Then, swelling up his throat, he
takes his song again with all his might,
his head thrown back, the picture of amorous despair.
He sings just to sing, he
sings such lovely things that he does not know
anymore what it was that they were meant to say.

la-la-la

But I can still hear through the
melancholy notes the piping of a flute,
the quivering crystalline trills
in clear vigorous cries,
I can still hear the first
innocent and frightened song of the nightingale
caught within the tendrils of the vine

Birch Book еще тексты