Description
Sometimes morning returns not because the sun has risen, but because it suddenly stops being dark inside. When all past grievances are neatly rolled up into tight balls and hidden somewhere under your ribs - they don't disappear, they just stop interfering with your breathing. The air becomes clear, even if it still stings your throat a little.
It sounds like that moment when pain ceases to be an enemy and becomes part of the landscape. When inside there is no longer broken glass, but something like amber - with shards, but warm. And light passes through them without asking permission.
The song is like a quiet respite after a long rain: it's still damp, but you can already stand barefoot. And even if there is no forgiveness, there is a place where you can just be - between what is gone and what remains.
Lyrics and translation
Original
The sun came back in one fell swoop.
A sequence of grievances turned to grace.
Yearning in the birds murmuring above. The rains pass as fast as love.
Like shadows changing shape, what remains holds the weight, holds the weight.
Spin me away, fairly away.
Finally, there is room for me in the space between.
As the flint strikes quick on the stone, there's redemption in the fragile bone.
As the brightness of sorrow punctures through the armor I've built around the harm.
And I'm sinking into the arms, and I'm living into the changing heart.
And I wish you had been there, wish you were more aware of me.
In this body there's a heart beating, and it's my heart.
And it's your heart I'm needing,
I need it badly.
I let it live in the space between what's gone and what's given.
If there is another way, let it move me.
And if there is a way out, let it be through me.