Spring

There was a story I read maybe 20 years ago or so about spring. It was set in a Russian blacksmiths’ town. A little talented boy to everybody’s surprise produced a branch of tree out of iron, that looked so natural that when he put it on the tree, birds sat on it and sang. When the amazed crowd asked him what he was thinking about when creating this branch, he said: 

– I though that when spring comes, people become better.

– Are they bad otherwise? – they asked him

– Yes – he answered

Why am I saying this? Because spring has come and I may have become slightly better:) Long time ago I accidentally got to know an amateur musician and singer over internet that was looking for a patritotic Ossetian texts. I didn’t have patriotic texts to my disgrace, but I had some lyrics. So I posted them on the forum where we met and she wrote and performed a song, which was the unique experience in my life. I never happened to meet the author in person, as she lived in Moscow and I lived in Vladikavkaz and I never had time to go meet her when in Moscow. In any case here is the song, sung in Ossetian (South Ossetian dialect):

http://ironau.ru/khaebic/alolaj.mp3

At the time I translated the same text into English as well and here is the text

Award for you is hidden in my breast
And trying to break out every day
Nobody dares to touch its nest,
“It’s only made for her”- I say.


I frankly talk to you with glances,
You don’t allow me utter words,
I’m tirelessly seeking chances
And hope to see at least the buds.


I often want to bring a star for you,
Present to you unearthly light,
But you’re the brightest on any sky
And prize for you is kept in hide

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