“Without music, life would be a blank to me.”
Jane Austen

I’ll Spend the Night in a Haystack …

I do love Russian Songs…
I wrote about this subject several times, so I skip it this time, still, there are many Russian songs I translated right here on my website.
Actually, the knowledge of how much on-demand these songs are I discovered on Quora, where I have been asked for translations, which I gladly made, also when I posted some of those on my previous websites. I do support better relationships among nations and always fought for the truth, trying to calm often intentional lies and outright misinformation about real facts…
So enjoy song performed by one of my favored composers and singers…

Жанна Бичевская: Заночую в стогу

I’ll spend the night in a haystack …
transl. by Maya

I’ll spend the night in a haystack, I’ll dig a hole like an animal
From big cities, running far, far away.
Midnight by the Milky Way will be grafted like with a homophobe.
And when the moon pours out, it will pail up mountains of the clouds.

From everywhere floats a delicate smell of a lilac shadow.
Grace, grace, the breast is filled with purity.
On my head, last year’s hay would fall
I’ll say goodbye to the constellation with the Polar Star.

Oh, holy times! Osculating holes of eternity,
I rub my eyes, smearing, like in a childhood a star.
No, not by bread alone lives the soul of a man,
All lives through you, creating this beauty.

And I will forget then, and no one, regretting, will remind
About the pursuit of the night what follows my heals.
The tipped bucket somewhere will feed the ground with rains
So in the morning be reaching to the ocean for freshwater.

And the world of the earth with the unimaginable Heaven hears the Creator,
Neither friends can be seen, nor the enemies following the trail.
And the fog, my fog, the smoke weightless veil
It will protect the fugitive from those seeking his soul.

Breathe free at night. Tomorrow will all be much easier.
The fog evaporates after serving its own dewdrop.
Nightingales sing, glorifying God, a forgotten grove.
And there is no one around, not counting the lost soul.

My note:
Zhanna is one of my favorite composers and singers. Her repertoire is huge and she is very much loved in Russia, where during the communist’s era, she must hide in underground… (as so many other talented people)

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