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Grebenshikov Boris Russian Album Wolves And Ravens It might be God or just whatever, but this night smells of incense The tall wood all around, mosses on the knoll Perhaps this iis a blessing or an ambush on our sence A good feeling to the touch, but such a chill through the soul There they go with their icons, with their icons so unknown Their path is lit by holy light from the water so deep I don't remember how we got up, how we walked out of the room II just remember how warm a it is that we seek Look at that Cathedral with its darkness under dome All eyes have searched there and all have seen but naught I would like to place a candel But they're sold right out of candels I'd light some liquor in my hand, but where can it be got? And the snows lie all around on all four sides of us Barefoot through the snow: no problem if your soul is pure We would have dissapeared for good But for the wolvesand the ravens They asked us wherewe're going, to that start so warm for sure ? Gilded all the crosses and stuck them in whenever The one cross truly given was traded for some wine And hungoverin the morning, went for water to the river And there instead of water it's the Mongol Post we found. We had wanted to give a sign so joyous to the angels But lost them from our sight erasing tracks of where we were Everyone would go out now and follow their signals If it were not for teh light of that star so pure What can we do now, how to sing if not for the hand so pure And if were do not sing we will burn up all alone But if I sing only a part the Orliki will come to me Along the murky water with their eyes as white as a stone Let them come all the same, I'm such a black bird myself There's nowhere left to run, a meter - then the ice for sure I'll cover you, you'll cover me, oh wolves and ravens So that somebody at least will make it to that start so pure So what do we care now, if there's darkness under dome So what do we care now, if we cannot see but naught And what do we care noe if thre're sold right out of candels Because if there is no fire, we know where it can be sought And maybe it is true that there's no path but his travelled one There may be no hands for miracles, but those so clean and sure Yet all the same we warmed only by the wolves annd ravens And they blessed us all the way to that star so pure |
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