Жатва

Пусть приснится
золотистый август,
В меру мягкий
и прохладный дождь.
Лето - на исходе,
эта данность
Как естественный
сезонов переход.
Неба синь
нисходит на усталость
Проецирует себя
и как итог:
Созреванием
обильный август -
Затянувшегося лета
монолог
Очарование.
Осенняя пора.
Дни покороче,
Небо интенсивней.
Затягивает
тонкая слюда
Поверхность луж
Хрустящей льдинкой.
Суровей ветер
И проникновенней
Все глубже в нас
Затрагивает плоть
И мы серьезней стали
И взрослее
Душой в тональности
Повыше взят аккорд.
По результатам лета
урожай
С полей уж собран,
Заготовлен
и закрыт.

Души собравши урожай
Припрятывать
подальше
Не спеши.


перевод:

The Harvest

[Intro]
(Warm evolving pad, soft shaker, gentle arp, rain sample fading into kick)
Let me dream of a golden August, soft and cool,
A gentle rain that falls just right, breaking the afternoon’s rule.
Summer’s fading now — it’s a given, a natural shift in the air,
The seasons turning, moving on, without a single care.

[Verse 1]
The deep blue sky descends upon our weariness, it shows,
It mirrors itself in every breath, in all the quiet flows.
August ripens heavy with the yield, the summer’s long refrain,
A drawn;out monologue of heat, now fading into grain.
The charm remains, the autumn spell, the days are getting short,
The sky grows deeper, more intense, a bolder, darker sort.

[Pre-Chorus]
(Snare ghost notes, rising synth, tension climbing)
A thin film settles over every puddle’s quiet face,
And a crisp, thin ice begins to form, a fragile, cold embrace.
The wind grows harsher, sharper now, it cuts a little deeper,
Reaching further into flesh and bone, no hiding, no surrender.
We’ve grown more serious, more grown;up, our souls have changed their tone,
In a higher key, a stronger chord, we stand here on our own.

[Chorus]
The harvest’s in, the fields are bare, the season’s work is done,
Gathered, stored, and sealed away beneath the setting sun.
But when you’ve harvested what your soul has grown throughout the year,
Don’t rush to hide it far away — let it linger here, right here.
Don’t hide it far… don’t hide it far…
Let the soul’s harvest breathe the air.

[Verse 2]
We measure what the summer gave, the weight of every day,
The quiet lessons learned in heat, the storms that blew our way.
The fields are stripped, the grain is saved, the cycle’s closed and clear,
But the inner crop we’ve gathered up — that’s what we hold so dear.
It’s not the grain, it’s not the fruit, it’s what the season taught,
The scars and songs, the highs and lows, the things we couldn’t fight.
All of it’s the harvest now, the truth we’ve come to know,
Not just the yield, but who we’ve been, wherever we had to go.

[Bridge]
(Break: kick drops, reversed vocal chop, ghostly textures, glitch FX)
The thin film on the water tells the story of the shift,
How the cold creeps in so quietly, how the warmth begins to lift.
Our skin remembers every gust, each drop and every ray,
And our souls remember every loss, every moment we could stay.
So don’t lock that harvest in the dark, don’t bury it too deep,
Let it sit in golden light, let it rest, but let it keep.

(Drop: full beat returns, aggressive sub-bass, layered percussion, warm lead, bright stabs, syncopated claps)

[Chorus]
The harvest’s in, the fields are bare, the season’s work is done,
Gathered, stored, and sealed away beneath the setting sun.
But when you’ve harvested what your soul has grown throughout the year,
Don’t rush to hide it far away — let it linger here, right here.
Don’t hide it far… don’t hide it far…
Let the soul’s harvest breathe the air.

[Outro]
Golden August fades to grey, the rain grows cold and slow,
But the harvest of the heart stays bright, wherever winds may blow.
Not to be locked, not to be lost, not hidden from the light,
Just to be held, to be remembered, to be carried through the night.

(Fade with repeating vocal chop)
“Let it linger here… let it linger here…
Even when the fields are bare, the soul’s harvest still lives clear.”