Dance (BG) 

We're dancing on a hillside,
And midday sings like a reed-pipe.
You're called Winter, 
I'm called April.

Ah, how high the heavens:
Them even by hand not to reach;
And I want with wind to write 
A tune of this dream.

And us no one will catch up,
Because, not knowing way, 
We kept the particle of fire 
And believed – all ahead.


Passage across (instrumental) B.G. 





"Child of the daybreak"
Альбом "From that side mirror glass"
Альбомы Б.Г.
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