Текст песни
A gypsy crone once whispered dark my fate
“Ere dusk shall fall, ye’ll stray beyond the gate
Through shadowed woods, lost paths ye’ll blindly tread
Till Cossack’s blade doth claim ye for his bed”
But wild of heart, I spurned the bridal vow
No Cossack’s bride—his chattel, beaten now
Sold eastward fast to warm a Khan’s cold throne
Where silk veils choked the freedom I had known
Yet fate’s wheel turned—the Khan’s concubine’s spite
Flayed flesh and name for beauty deemed too bright
“Why curse me, crone?” I howled to starless skies
“What sin drew your tongue’s venom to my eyes?”
Five decades cloaked in wandering’s bitter frost
Through Saracen sands, my soul and bread long lost
Till once again, that crone crossed my despair—
I clutched her skirts, undone by grief’s raw prayer
“Lift this hex! Forgive my tongue’s old flame—
What curse was born of blood, not thy dark game?”
She laughed, her voice a rasp of wind through bone
“No spell I cast—’twas thy pride forged thine own
‘Hadst thou bowed low to Cossack and to Khan
Not starved for pride, nor scorned their courtly span
No Saracen’s keep wouldst thou roam in shame—
But guest of honor, whispered was thy name!’”
Now lone I sing this truth to fire and fen
The chains we break oft forge our chains again
Beware the heart that scorns all compromise—
The fiercest curses bloom from our own eyes
