Текст песни Joan Madu - Муза

my lofty ideals have collapsed:
dreams of a dress from elsa schiaparelli,
tobacco - in the throat, citrus - in the perfume,
his most beautiful fingers - in my bed

I will become a muse to whom they lose faith,
but cherish that past from memory, preserving.
I was created in the image and example
that same blissful fire.

I burn, you melt, pour wax.
look - here flowers have sprouted from church candles,
the wax flows down like a constellation into the white night and the sheet,
and dawn gold spreads on the grass.

Em Solovyova