Сосны

день склонЯется к обеду
приумОлкли даже птАхи
чуть поскрИпывают дрОги
едут свАты с бубенцАми
млАда дЕвица - невЕста
заливАется  слезАми:
тот, что едет на телЕге
ей не нужен, даже дАром

*  лес шумИт, сгибая вЕтви
листья тЯнутся к невЕсте
с жАлостью и утешАя
шелестЯт дерЕвья, трАвы

дЕвица другого любит
но считАют  - ей не пАра
плачут мАменьки и тётки
неуёмно пред сватАми...
тут девИца понимАет,
что не спрАвится с роднЫми
и, принЯвши дОлю злУю,
немотОю сЕрдце залеплЯет.

*  лес шумИт, сгибая вЕтви
листья тЯнутся к невЕсте
с жАлостью и утешАя
шелестЯт дерЕвья, трАвы

сосны, травы и кустарник:
меж собой переглянулись:
"достучаться не сумеем!"
вывод сделан, без сомнений.
а невеста молодая,
в душу подселИвши скОрби,
вмиг зачАхла, подурнЕла
облик принялА старухи.
 
*  лес шумИт, сгибая вЕтви
листья тЯнутся к невЕсте
с жАлостью и утешАя

плотный шЕлест вдоль дорОги...

шепчут сосны: будут дети,

не озлОбься.

стЕрпишь...

слЮбится...

мы знаем...

перевод под EDM:

Pine trees

[Intro]
(Atmospheric pad, slow pulse, rustling FX, subtle perc)
The day is leaning toward the afternoon, the air is growing still,
Even the birds have fallen quiet, as if they’ve lost their will.
The cartwheels creak a quiet tune, a slow and heavy sound,
The matchmakers are coming, their bells are ringing round.
A young girl, a bride-to-be, her eyes are full of tears,
The man who rides the cart—she doesn’t want him, not for years.

[Verse 1]
She doesn’t need him, not even as a gift, not even for free,
Her heart belongs to someone else—but that’s not meant to be.
Her mother cries, her aunts are weeping, standing in the way,
Begging, pleading, pushing her toward the matchmakers’ sway.
She knows she can’t outfight her kin, the weight of duty’s high,
So she swallows down her fate, and seals her heart with silence’s sigh.

[Pre-Chorus]
(Buildup: rising strings, snare roll, velocity increase)
She takes the bitter share they give, the path that’s laid before,
And wraps her soul in quiet numbness, shutting every inner door.
But the forest hears her pain, the leaves are reaching out to soothe,
Whispering, “We see your sorrow—we’re here to ease the truth.”

[Chorus]
The forest sings, the branches bend, the wind is telling tales,
The leaves are stretching toward the bride, with pity and with grace.
They whisper through the rustling, with kindness in their sway,
“We feel your hurt, we hold your pain—we’ll never turn away.”
The trees and grass and underbrush, they share a silent glance,
They know they cannot break the wall—their words won’t stand a chance.

[Verse 2]
The pines and grass and bushes, they look at one another’s face,
Saying, “We can’t get through to her—there’s no way to erase
This weight her family’s given her, this road she has to tread.”
And with that thought, they lower their heads, accepting what they’ve said.
The young bride, with grief that’s settled deep inside her aching chest,
In an instant, she grows old, her beauty fades to rest.
She’s grown so much older, in the blink of a single eye,
As if the years have stolen all the light she used to carry high.

[Bridge]
(Break: kick drops, ambient textures, vocal reverb, wind FX)
The rustle grows so dense along the road, a blanket soft and low,
The whispering of the pines becomes a voice she needs to know.
“There will be children, little ones to hold and to embrace,
Don’t let the bitterness take root—just hold on to the grace.
You’ll bear this burden, you’ll endure, the days will slowly mend,
It will become familiar—this life you didn’t choose, my friend.
We know it hurts right now, but time will soften every edge,
Just don’t let anger hollow out the soul you used to keep.”

(Drop: full beat returns with warm supersaw, sidechain pumping, layered percussion)

[Chorus]
The forest sings, the branches bend, the wind is telling tales,
The leaves are stretching toward the bride, with pity and with grace.
They whisper through the rustling, with kindness in their sway,
“We feel your hurt, we hold your pain—we’ll never turn away.”
The trees and grass and underbrush, they share a silent glance,
They know they cannot break the wall—their words won’t stand a chance.

[Outro]
A thick rustle lines the roadside, a quiet, steady hum,
The pines are whispering the same, as shadows come and go.
“Don’t harden your heart, my child, just hold on for a while,
You’ll learn to live with what you’ve got—it’ll become your smile.”

(Fade with repeating vocal chop): “the forest sings… the forest sings…”