My August. E. Chmelevskaya.

[Intro] [Verse] Upon the blue — a jet trail hangs so white, The sun — a pale charm in the sky’s false night, So still, yet trembling with a silent storm, No rain, no wind — yet thunder takes its form. [Bridge] [Verse] This tree, this shore, this sand beneath my feet, The bay that whispers where the sky and water meet, The smoke that curls above the sunburned land — A phantom fog, just dust in air and sand, The bread crust cracking in the noonday blaze, The burning planks where I have spent my days, The August heat — not final, but so near... [Bridge] [Verse] I’ll lock it deep inside, and hold it dear, Like some sly bandar-log who hoards his gold, And only you, yes you alone, may hold The key to all my thoughts, the flame, the song — To drink this sun and feel it burn so strong, To drain its wells until no drop remains. [Instrumental] [Chorus] As slow as August, simple as the plains, You’ll rise where dusk and daylight softly blur, And all that lies between us — nothing sure, Just this: my sunburn, tinged with Indian hue — A fading wall that can’t keep out the you. [Outro] [End]