And so it seems that the fates are treating me very well still. My spring semester is almost done (Bulgarian exam was today and there are no more exams to come) and Easter is at the door (Христос Воскресе!). Even the weather is now better and I've finally grown used to the abnormal amount of sunlight out there.. in the wilderness (aka Finland).
It also seems that this year I'll see all the three biggest cities of Europe (I wanted to write "biggest European cities" but then again some of my Finnish friends might disagree with me about how European e.g. Moscow really is): Moscow, London and St. Petersburg. I've developed some kind of a relationship with all these three cities but St. Petersburg is definitely a sui generis. It is the Northern Venice, Hero-City, Fourth Rome, Northern Capital and so much more. It is also the place where both my grandparents and my own parents met and started their families. It's the city where I spent the two first years of my life. In short: it's my second home.
Recently I found this great and quite new song dedicated to St. Petersburg I would like to share with you. Of course it's in Russian but no worries I'll try to translate it for you guys:
First the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXRGGHn9bnA
Then the original lyrics:
ПИТЕР
Он дышал, как река подо льдом,
Он молчал, как следы на песке,
На камнях, под холодным дождём,
Он темнел, как дыра на виске,
Он смотрел на замёрзший залив,
Он людьми одевал берега,
Наблюдал, как в плену перспектив,
Подыхая, кричала тайга…
Через три сотни лет носит дым
Скифской вазою вещую тень.
Я бреду по больным мостовым
Белой ночью - оборотень.
Мимо павших и бывших живых,
Замурованных в склепы дворов,
У распятых в подъездах волхвов
Я шепчу языками немых.
Разбивались глаза о проспект,
В коммуналках тонули тела,
Неопознанный сбили объект -
Я живой, да в чём мать родила.
Не рубите на хлев корабли,
Не торгуйте крестами на вес,
Эти камни грешней всей земли,
Это небо больней всех небес…
Разорви тело мое,
Собери веру на час,
У зари разгони воронье,
Сохрани этот город для нас.
Then the translation:
ST. PETE'S
He breathed like a river under the icy cover.
He was silent as the traces on the sand.
On the rocks, under a cold rain,
He darkened as the hole on a temple.
He looked at the frozen Gulf,
He dressed the shores with people,
He watched the scenery as if it was imprisoned,
Tayga yelled and died away...
Three hundred years later the smoke brings,
A prophetic shadow on a Scythian vase.
I roam on the diseased streets,
In the white night - a werewolf.
Past the fallen and the former living,
Immured in the vaults of the backyards,
We crucified the sorcerers in the doorways,
I whisper in the language of the mutes.
The eyes were broken on the avenue,
In the communes bodies were drowning,
The unidentified object was shot down -
I'm alive but as naked as the day I was born.
Do not built ships for bread,
Do not sale crosses by weight,
These stones have done more sin than any other in the whole world,
This sky is sicker than any other...
Break my body to pieces,
Gather your faith for an hour,
At dawn disperse the crows,
Preserve this city for us.
Now, tell me what you made of it?
Yours in high spirits and on the road,
Stefan
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