Dead Can Dance - д/з как вы пытались провести осень | Текст песни

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• Dead Can Dance
• д/з как вы пытались провести осень

Could she imagine it? A little girl from a distant Kazakh village. Surrounded by the Steppes.
Steppes and scarlet poppies.
Mama, what’s your most beautiful childhood memory?
It’s spring in the Steppes.
You know, the Steppes are all covered in small red poppies and above the even red carpet, going down the grader slopes, there is sky, sky, sky...
We would round up the cows in the morning.
Cows in fresh greens.
Mama looks up.
Opened, above her, is a huge red poppy.
And above it, sky, sky, sky...
She is flying. 65 years on.
To the very day.
Born dreaming of flying. Flying, light.
Beneath her windmills, canals, a golf course, people on the golf course,
shadows of people on the golf course,
and even shadows of golf balls.
And the reflection of the red hot-air balloon in the green cannals.
She takes a picture of her hand on the balloon basket, on the background of treetops, rooftops.
Flying over crossroads, fields, farms, motorways, mini tractors,
over the visible life of ordinary citizens,
Flying into the setting Sun.
From the ground her daughter watches and sees the black silhouette of the balloon,
the balloon in the bordering gold of the Sun,
Compressed by the sunlight,
The Sun squeezes and absorbs it.
Soon one must land, Mr. Lorenz sends a tongue of fire into the cavity of the red balloon.
The poppy aerial heart fills with flame, lightens, flies.
Now Mr. Lorenz, sending tongues of fire into the cavity of the red balloon,
weakens his hand’s force, smoothly, melodiously cools the poppy heart.
The heart lowers the balloon.
The chilled heart strives towards the earth.
In it, we.
Mum and me.
Tanya and her wee ones:
NINA, MARIE.
i/provada