Цвет музыки. The Color of Music
Слова, музыка, исполнение мои, музыкальная аранжировка Suno Картины с музыкальными инструментами мои. Song by Oxana Katsov, music arrangement Suno For my English-speaking friends, here is a lyrical adaptation of this song. The Color of Music “Paint the music,” you said, “I will help you through,” In black and white notes on the winter snow, Or with vibrant dyes on a canvas new, Or in silent sounds where the shadows grow. I dip my brush in a birdsong’s trill, A pale-yellow feather, a melody’s trace, The wind is a flute in the reeds, never still, As the whispering leaves echo soft through the space. Chorus: Is it a stage or a battlefield? You decide. Just play your own music with nothing to hide. To see the music, let your eyes close tight, To hear the colors, the voices of light. And on one-two-three, a deep crimson waltz, On four and five, a city romance. Rain taps on the glass, where the reflection halts, Dark-somber rain, loud-blue in its dance. Chorus: Is it a stage or a battlefield? You decide. Just play your own music with nothing to hide. To see the music, let your eyes close tight, To hear the colors, the voices of light.
Слова, музыка, исполнение мои, музыкальная аранжировка Suno Картины с музыкальными инструментами мои. Song by Oxana Katsov, music arrangement Suno For my English-speaking friends, here is a lyrical adaptation of this song. The Color of Music “Paint the music,” you said, “I will help you through,” In black and white notes on the winter snow, Or with vibrant dyes on a canvas new, Or in silent sounds where the shadows grow. I dip my brush in a birdsong’s trill, A pale-yellow feather, a melody’s trace, The wind is a flute in the reeds, never still, As the whispering leaves echo soft through the space. Chorus: Is it a stage or a battlefield? You decide. Just play your own music with nothing to hide. To see the music, let your eyes close tight, To hear the colors, the voices of light. And on one-two-three, a deep crimson waltz, On four and five, a city romance. Rain taps on the glass, where the reflection halts, Dark-somber rain, loud-blue in its dance. Chorus: Is it a stage or a battlefield? You decide. Just play your own music with nothing to hide. To see the music, let your eyes close tight, To hear the colors, the voices of light.