Cosmic Tablecloth (GENIE'S MIX)
Песня по мотивам стихов Джинни Аль-Масбаха VS Алексея Берегового: https://stihi.ru/2025/07/07/4148, «Cosmic Tablecloth (GENIE'S MIX)» Микс создан при исполнении песни: Стихи: Write me letters... See this tablecloth aglow With all this gentle, following the piano. With all the stars in constellation-beds, With ancient muses, and the new ones bred, Ready to fly much faster than the light, In just a single flicker of the candlelight… The voice becomes a bit more insistent, a plea. The outlines of the night... Don't you be quiet... The voice of melodies, a midnight riot... The weary watchman of the sleepless thought… The piano melody becomes more confident and bright. The voice is full of warmth and conviction. Like bridges built of distant, starry rhymes, Lie all the dreams of long-forgotten times. And you ascend them with a gentle grace, A flower reaching for that sacred space. So carry on your bloom, let it be shown. And grant me leave to let my hair stay gray-strewn. On all your paths, a blessing I bestow. Just keep climbing, don't look down… Voice is a final, clear whisper, echoing the initial inspiration. Like a ghost of stars above the Moon.
Песня по мотивам стихов Джинни Аль-Масбаха VS Алексея Берегового: https://stihi.ru/2025/07/07/4148, «Cosmic Tablecloth (GENIE'S MIX)» Микс создан при исполнении песни: Стихи: Write me letters... See this tablecloth aglow With all this gentle, following the piano. With all the stars in constellation-beds, With ancient muses, and the new ones bred, Ready to fly much faster than the light, In just a single flicker of the candlelight… The voice becomes a bit more insistent, a plea. The outlines of the night... Don't you be quiet... The voice of melodies, a midnight riot... The weary watchman of the sleepless thought… The piano melody becomes more confident and bright. The voice is full of warmth and conviction. Like bridges built of distant, starry rhymes, Lie all the dreams of long-forgotten times. And you ascend them with a gentle grace, A flower reaching for that sacred space. So carry on your bloom, let it be shown. And grant me leave to let my hair stay gray-strewn. On all your paths, a blessing I bestow. Just keep climbing, don't look down… Voice is a final, clear whisper, echoing the initial inspiration. Like a ghost of stars above the Moon.