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Hanging the Moon

Hanging the Moon - a new song

It’s been one of those seasons of quiet despair,
I could hang the moon painted over your skies –
keep you company, even when nobody’s there,
throw her silver keys gently into your eyes.

Take me sailing again down the rivers of summer,
all the way to the ocean, the islands of South,
with the firelight dancing and licking our shadows,
and the taste of the universe still in your mouth.

Fields of blueberry darkness that cling to your shoulders.
Carolina magnolias, spreading their glow,
with the perfume of longing as evenings grow colder –
things that only the moon and her silences know…

I am hanging the moon over trees thinking winter,
while the memories scatter gold leaves to the wind.
Take a walk on the beach, gather moments that drifted
deeper into the currents, and bring them back in.

It’s been one of those seasons of quiet despair,
I could hang the moon painted over your skies –
keep you company, even when nobody’s there,
throw her silver keys gently into your eyes.

credits

Music: Plamen Sivov
Lyrics: Diana Stefanova

Пламен Сивов: Публицистика (1997-2017)

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Приятно четене.

The Sweetest Things

Music: Plamen Sivov Lyrics: Diana Stefanova *** The sweetest things are painfully alert, examined by the likelihood of losing: Is living worth the risk of getting hurt? Or loving worth the consequence of choosing? Uncertainty gives in to hope instead, to shelter nights in silence, to appear - umbrella in the rain; a cosy bed for you to dream; and sheets of paper clear for you to lay that inner beauty down. For us to be the best we could imagine. Whatever happiness might be - a sound, a color, or a place - for us to find it within ourselves, and in that fragile space between the shores of our separate oceans. I’d like to sweeten mornings, nights, and days, be goodness, joy, and all the things you wanted… I’d gather silver linings to the clouds, into the fleeting breath of our bitter present. A window screen, a face, my fears and doubts. Your eyes, galactic blue so close across in the desert. But if you lay that inner beauty down Then we shall be the best we could imagine. Whatever happiness might be - a sound, a color, or a place - for us to find it.

The Art of Distant Objects

Music: Plamen Sivov Lyrics: Diana Stefanova *** If the brush and the canvas could speak, would they shout through the deserts and seas of the room, to discover of each other, with some hesitation, no doubt: “Do you think of me? Do you imagine my colors…” So much beauty could ripen the space in between, like a blossoming flower of tender creation… And the world – understood, and acknowledged, and seen – would be glad to exist, to be art in the making. But the brush and the canvas say nothing at all – the unsayable motions of matter are flowing to a plausible universe freed from the Fall, where blissful is Now; where loving is knowing…

The Illusion of Things