Записка Note in the margins

                РОМАНС   
                (Translation into English is provided below)


SONG - WORDS AND MUSIC BY THE AUTHOR

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Лунная-лунная-лунная ночь бередит город старый
Пики антенн что-то шепчут мансардам устало
Падают-падают-падают в тишь бездомные снежинки
вместе с дождём обрываясь с крыш
рисуют смешные свои картинки


А безымянный лист так просится к губам
в нём краток слог и чист тебя так много там
А дождик за окном поёт про что потом
и слышатся едва последние слова
Хорошая хорошая хорошая моя
Не забывай меня не забывай меня не забывай


И бесшабашно терзает динамики голос родной
будто жонглёр словами играет  смешливый герой
Где-то две белые птицы по кругу плывут на пруду
Лунною-лунною ночью приснится
эта тёплая радость в холодном снегу

А безымянный лист так просится к губам
в нём краток слог и чист тебя так много там
А дождик за окном поёт про что потом
и слышатся едва последние слова
Хорошая хорошая хорошая моя
Не забывай меня не забывай меня не забывай


Лунная-лунная-лунная ночь звёзды тают
как беспокойную дочь тучи её качают
Бродят тропой серебристою чудные тени
Да упадёт средь зимы Вам в ладони
листочек весенний

А безымянный лист так просится к губам
в нём краток слог и чист тебя так много там
А дождик за окном поёт про что потом
и слышатся едва последние слова
Хорошая хорошая хорошая моя
Не забывай меня не забывай меня не забывай


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           Питерка  музыка автора
               

Note in the Margins
By Piterka Badmaeva Olga
(Translation by Guru.I)
             * * *

Moonlit, moonlit, moonlit night
Stirs the city, old and wise,
Antenna peaks whisper to eaves,
Murmuring secrets in weary sighs.

Falling, falling, falling still—
Homeless snowflakes kiss the ground,
Blending with rain as they spill,
Sketching dreams without a sound.

And the nameless page
Begging for my lips,
Its words are brief yet bright,
You are woven into every line.

And the rain beyond the glass
Sings of what will come to pass,
Softly echoing the final phrase—
"My dearest, my dearest, my dearest love,
Do not forget me, do not forget me, do not forget."

Restless voice through speakers hums,
A playful jester juggling words.
Somewhere, on a pond, two swans
Drift in endless silver turns.

Moonlit, moonlit night will bring
That warm delight in winter’s sting.

And the nameless page
Begging for my lips,
Its words are brief yet bright,
You are woven into every line.

And the rain beyond the glass
Sings of what will come to pass,
Softly echoing the final phrase—
"My dearest, my dearest, my dearest love,
Do not forget me, do not forget me, do not forget."

Moonlit, moonlit, moonlit night,
Stars fade, cradled by restless clouds.
Silver shadows wander past,
Their footprints soft on winter’s shroud.

May in your hands, midst frost and chill,
A springtime leaf fall gently still.

And the nameless page
Begging for my lips,
Its words are brief yet bright,
You are woven into every line.

And the rain beyond the glass
Sings of what will come to pass,
Softly echoing the final phrase—
"My dearest, my dearest, my dearest love,
Do not forget me, do not forget me, do not forget."

        * * *

“Note in the Margins”
by Piterka Badmaeva Olga
(Translated by Guru.I — from heart to heart)


            * * *

Moonlit-moonlit-moonlit night disturbs the sleeping city,
Antenna spires whisper wearily to the garret roofs.
Snowflakes fall, fall, fall into the silence,
Homeless and quiet, they slip with the rain from the rooftops,
Painting their foolish sketches in the air…

And the nameless note — how it longs for my lips…
Its lines are few, but oh, how full of you they are.
And the rain at the window hums of something yet to come,
As a whisper barely reaches through the storm:
My dear one, my dear one, my dearest…
Don’t forget me… don’t forget me… don’t forget…

A familiar voice crackles wild through the speaker,
A juggler of words, a laughing hero of air.
Somewhere, two white birds drift in a circle on a pond…
And on this moonlit, moonlit night,
This warm joy will dream itself — in snow.

And the nameless note — how it longs for my lips…
Its lines are few, but oh, how full of you they are.
And the rain at the window hums of something yet to come,
As a whisper barely reaches through the storm:
My dear one, my dear one, my dearest…
Don’t forget me… don’t forget me… don’t forget…

Moonlit-moonlit-moonlit night — the stars dissolve,
The clouds cradle her like a restless daughter.
On a silver path, strange shadows wander…
May a spring leaf fall, in the middle of winter,
Into your open palm.

And the nameless note — how it longs for my lips…
Its lines are few, but oh, how full of you they are.
And the rain at the window hums of something yet to come,
As a whisper barely reaches through the storm:
My dear one, my dear one, my dearest…
Don’t forget me… don’t forget me… don’t forget…
    * * *

music and lyrics by Piterka
poetic translation by Guru.I
16.04.2025
..........................

Note in the margins
Literal translation by Guru.I
          * * *

Moonlit, moonlit, moonlit night stirs the old city
The antenna peaks whisper something tiredly to the attics
Falling, falling, falling into the silence — homeless snowflakes
Together with the rain, breaking off from the roofs
Draw their funny pictures

And the nameless page so longs for my lips
Its style is brief and pure — there’s so much of you there
And the rain behind the window sings of what will be later
And barely can be heard the final words:
My dear, my dear, my dear...
Don’t forget me, don’t forget me, don’t forget...

And recklessly, a familiar voice tears through the speakers
Like a juggler, a cheerful hero plays with words
Somewhere, two white birds float in circles on the pond
Moonlit, moonlit night will bring in dreams
This warm joy in the cold snow

And the nameless page so longs for my lips
Its style is brief and pure — there’s so much of you there
And the rain behind the window sings of what will be later
And barely can be heard the final words:
My dear, my dear, my dear...
Don’t forget me, don’t forget me, don’t forget...

Moonlit, moonlit, moonlit night — the stars melt
Clouds rock her like a restless daughter
Wondrous shadows wander a silvery path
May a spring leaf fall into your palms
In the midst of winter

And the nameless page so longs for my lips
Its style is brief and pure — there’s so much of you there
And the rain behind the window sings of what will be later
And barely can be heard the final words:
My dear, my dear, my dear...
Don’t forget me, don’t forget me, don’t forget...

        * * *   17.04.2025