Quote:
Originally Posted by Reynard_CT
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Currently listening to a classic from the early '80s.
Алла Пугачева - Миллион Алых Роз (1983)
Listening to this song reminds me of the times when we walked the cobblestone streets of Leningrad on those warm summer evenings, when an ice cream only cost 30 kopek and you asked for one the same way every time... You would order your favorite, the plain chocolate which would begin to glisten and melt before it was even in your hands. Even though we only had 20 rubles left, I loved to buy it for you just to see the smile shining on your face as you watched the pudgy vendor load the cone with already dripping chocolate. You would eat it as we walked back to our tiny flat, and this song would be crackling on the radio while you sang along with it softly, putting Alla's voice to shame (though you never believed me when I told you this).
This song also played on our trip to Częstochowa, Poland to see the Black Madonna icon, and I should have somehow known it was an ill omen. I was able to walk away from the crash, but you never did, and you never got to see the icon or hear Alla Pugacheva's song about the lonely painter ever again. |
Once again listening to
Алла Пугачева - Миллион Алых Роз (1983) and the memories have again come back. This time I am thinking of those cool Spring evenings in Pavlovsk when the sun was hovering above the horizon, suspended by invisible threads. We would come to the Pleasure Gardens late in the evening to hear the various bands competing for listeners, though obviously most of us preferred the orchestra who had played a rendition of Alla's "Million Roses" once an evening.
On a warm, calm night in April we gathered around the orchestra when Alla Pugacheva herself, who had a vacation home in Pavlovsk, surprised us all and belted this song out in all its lively glory. As the cigar smoke hung thick in the air like a cloud settling on a mountain, you had a tear dangling gently from the corner of your eye. I asked if it was from the lyrics, but you blushed and said it was from the smoke.
The next year, on the drive to Częstochowa, you surprised me by blurting out that in fact those lyrics drove you to tears but not because of the meaning of them, but rather because you thought of yourself living alone. You said that hearing Alla herself singing the song brought the words to life, and that you could fully picture yourself alone, living without me, yet knowing I was out there somewhere longing for you. It is bittersweet to consider that it is not you but me who has had to live alone all these years.