Hi, guys!
Today I would like to continue yesterday's story. Yesterday I published an old song, which, in my opinion, I did well to sing.
As a child, I also studied vocals. At first, folk, because my grandmother wanted it so much. I hated him. This creak of the vocal cords, this terrible sound. I liked classical, academic vocals, and I wanted to do it, but who listened to the child. Then I started doing it, but much later than I would like.
I studied for about a year, but since I had very poor academic performance in the exact sciences at school (they simply weren’t given to me), my grandfather banned vocals. Then I thought it was cruel, and I still think so.
But I managed to get some knowledge and voice training. Not as much as we would like. And now I decided to sing a song on which I trained for a very long time just then.
Sample text:
The nightingale whistled to us all night
The city was silent, and silent at home
Fragrant bunches of white acacia
All night they drove us crazy
Fragrant bunches of white acacia
All night they drove us crazy
The garden was all washed by spring showers
There was water in the dark ravines
God how naive we were
How young we were then
The years have passed, making us gray
Where is the purity of these living branches?
Only winter and a white blizzard
Remind them today
Only winter and a white blizzard
Remind them today
At the hour when the wind is raging violent
With renewed vigor I feel:
Fragrant bunches of white acacia
Irretrievable, like my youth!
Fragrant bunches of white acacia
As unique as my youth
