You carved a Violin in the Ukrainian night,
And spoke to the stream, the fish, the light,
From the pulsing shadows,
Of leaves on the high.

Distant eyes! you were birds
or the metaphors of birds…
or else resembled a bit of prose,

Distant Eyes you were autumn angels,
Or a little of both,
Distant Eyes, Distant eyes,

The wind still remembers your sighs.

Now you have that profound conclusion from within

Like an amber worm,

Advanced beyond carrying its reasons around

Now you are like a shell, with its stones

more ruby than a mystery

more diamond.

distant eyes! you were birds

or the metaphors of birds…

or else resembled a bit of prose,

Distant Eyes you were autumn angels,

Or a bit of both,

Distant Eyes, Distant eyes,

The wind still remembers your sighs.

Those who came you took one by one:

like the prophet of a storm;

of death you were the spring,

skipping over the spoor of roses

you came,

but soon you were gone.

distant eyes! you were birds

or the metaphors of birds…

or else resembled a bit of prose,

Distant Eyes you were autumn angels,

Or a bit of both,

Distant Eyes, Distant eyes,

The wind still remembers your sighs.

Words by Ivaana