Description
Grief, it turns out, isn't a storm – it's more like the wind that roams wherever it pleases. First it knocks you down, then suddenly it teaches you to breathe more evenly. Here, you don't cry into a pillow - you plant a garden from memory, water it with gratitude, and wait for something warm to grow from the coldest place within. Pain isn't hidden; it's transformed into music, into light, into a quiet "thank you" to those who are no longer with us. And it seems that loss doesn't steal love - it simply makes it eternal, in every breath, in every note, in the words: "Bless the Lord, O my soul."
Lyrics and translation
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