Birds
“The song of a departing soul,” per my dad (RIP).
I remember writing it at night on the sofa in the living room. While I was writing it, it seemed brilliant; once I’d finished, already somewhat drawn-out and dull. Dad’s comment: “A sad song, this one. What keeps going round in my head is ‘the song of a departing soul.’”
The translation is a crib, not a singing version.
Music and lyrics: Vova Zakharov