Russian Folk Festival 2014

WOMEN ELECTED

As a current of fresh water through the pungent sea,

 Our secret loves, tenderly entwined,

 Pass through this impious century, to the thought

 Lasts, and has not put his soul into his flesh.

We have the drunken smile of the white wedding

 Who mix our touching and milky contours,

 And in our eyes survives the last beauty

 Of the world, and in our hearts the last priesthood.

We drive among the balsams and flowers

 The slowness of our rhythmic steps like stanzas,

 Carrying alone the sovereignty of the stuffs,

 The stones and the make-up, and the pride of the colors.

We are the mirror of ourselves, the dawn

 Which is repeated at the bottom of the silent lake,

 And our passion is a precious wine

 Who burns, contained in a double amphora.

But sometimes the fierce gleam of our looks

 Fear those who are damned,

 And the horror lives in us as well as in our elders

 Who lamented the nights in their scattered hair,

For through joy and unspeakable grace

 And the royal disdain of our grave love,

 We sobbed to meet

 In front of us the great open gulf of the Impossible ...

Nina <3