Maria Sofronie

be born

grow

and die

become a flower

that nourishes everything around

from visual to tangible

and with her body

feeds the soil

in silence

I can tell you that this is an F sharp. Or a D, but what D? Every sound has its width, height, and depth. The sound I mention is multidimensional. Reproduce any sound is possible only by becoming this sound. Thus true music is trance music. There is no trance without dance … even if there is a transcendence. Who knows? Especially not me. And if

The original vajra had open ends, it was then a loud transmitter, a musical instrument if you want. But its music was unique. It harmonized the cosmic body, so to speak. It reoriented each electron body to its optimal frequency modulation, which enables it to better make and receive cosmic waves. We imagine the use of such an instrument was tricky

Round, round, go round, Waterwheel, go round

Go round, and call Mr. Sun

Go round, and call Mr. Sun

Birds, bugs, beasts, grass, trees, flowers

Bring spring and summer, fall and winter

Bring spring and summer, fall and winter

Round, round, go round, Waterwheel, go round

Go round, and call Mr. Sun

Go round, and call Mr. Sun

Birds, bugs, beasts, grass, trees,

The joy I felt when I touched you

Went deep, deep down

And seeped into

Every nook and cranny of this body

Even if I’m far away

And no longer understand anything

Even when the time comes

For this life to end

Everything of now

Is everything of the past

We’ll meet again, I’m sure

In some nostalgic place

The warmth you gave me

Deep, deep down

Comes to me now,

The joy I felt when I touched you

Went deep, deep down

And seeped into

Every nook and cranny of this body

Even if I’m far away

And no longer understand anything

Even when the time comes

For this life to end

Everything of now

Is everything of the past

We’ll meet again, I’m sure

In some nostalgic place

The warmth you gave me

Deep, deep down

Comes to me now,

My lashes are salty

In the morning we healed our broken hearts

on the floor

when we face the nature of life

We stay stil, still in love

if only we could remember

the first time we saw a butterfly

and the wind was soft on your cheeck