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letra de wolves and ravens - boris grebenshikov

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

- boris grebenshikov

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