In my huge city there is - a night. I go from the sleeping home - aside. And people think I’m a daughter, a wife, - But I remember only one thing: the night. The July wind sweeps all my way - away, Some quiet music in the window - play. The wind will blow till the dawn - today Through the thin chest walls into breast, - hey. Here are a poplar black, and bells - on the tower, And in the window the light, in hands - flowers, And here is the step that after no one - leads, And here is this shadow, but me - non-exist. The lights are like - threads of the gold beads, And in the mouth taste of the nocturnal-leaves. Release me, please, from day ties, Friends, can’t you see I am your - dream at nights. Translated from Russian into English by Kseniya Rundel 17 июля 1916, Москва Марина Цветаева, цикл «Бессонница»
Потрясающее исполнение песни 💎Дианой💎 на стихи великой русской поэтессы Мариной Цветаевой!!! 👍👍👍👍👍 Спасибо за реакцию на 💎Диану Анкудинову💎!!! Лайк!!! 👍👍👍👍👍 Stunning performance of the song 💎Diana💎 to poems by the great Russian poet Marina Tsvetaeva!!! 👍👍👍👍👍 Thanks for the reaction to 💎Diana Ankudinova💎!!! Like!!! 👍👍👍👍👍
Questa canzone è stata arrangiata da Brandon Stone ed è una poesia di una poetessa russa scritta nel 1916 (Marina Ivanovna Cvetaeva ) e Diana la canta in modo stupendo come al solito 🥰🥰🥰
Красивая грустная песня! И великолепный вокал со стороны Дианы! Диане - браво, а за реакцию - лайк! Beautiful sad song! And great vocals from Diana! Bravo to Diana, and like for the reaction!
Greetings from Scotland! If you are an insomniac, you spend a lot of time walking around in the night when everyone else is tucked up asleep in their beds in their homes. Basically, that's the story she tells here. Beautifully sung by Diana in that naturally deep, chocolate toned voice of hers. Set to music by Brandon Stone. Originally from a poem by the famous Russian Poet, Marina Tsvetaeva way back in July 17, 1916. Insomnia. 3. In my enormous city it is - night... In my enormous city it is - night, as from my sleeping house I go - out, and people think perhaps I'm a daughter or wife but in my mind is one thought only: night. The July wind now sweeps a way for - me. From somewhere, some window, music though - faint. The wind can blow until the dawn - today, in through the fine walls of the breast rib-cage. Black poplars, windows, filled with - light. Music from high buildings, in my hand a flower. Look at my steps - following - nobody. Look at my shadow, nothing’s here of me. The lights - are like threads of golden beads in my mouth is the taste of the night - leaf. Liberate me from the bonds of-day, my friends, understand: I’m nothing but your dream.
A brilliant reading of a poem by Russian poet Marina Tsvetaeva. This is a very abstract text. A game of associations. It was written in 1916. Phenomenal... it's modern! "I'm walking alone through the city at night. Black poplar. Light in the window. The ringing of a bell on the tower. Autumn leaf on my lips. I'm not me. I'm in your dream. I'm just a shadow."
