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Swallowtail

Как вам такая песня в стиле Енка? А песню, наверное, придется чуть пояснить. Она о последнем свидании японского лётчика комикадзе с гейшей перед его последней миссией. Несмотря на сюжет, это не воспевание японской доблести, а антивоенная песня: [Verse 1] She poured the tea with steady hands, The night was soft, the candle low. He watched the steam rise, said nothing first — Some truths arrive on winds that blow. He touched her hair like memorizing rain, Like learning something he would not keep long. The shamisen played somewhere down the hall — A simple, unremarkable song. [Chorus] No drums, no glory, no rising sun — Just green tea cooling, and morning to come. Just two souls breathing the same still air, One staying. One gone. Both aware. [Verse 2] He said: "I fly at dawn. Don't mourn. The sky needs nothing — only me." She nodded slowly, poured again, The way the sea accepts the sea. "But when a swallowtail lands on your hand, When you least expect and don't know why — Don't brush it off. Just let it rest." She smiled. She didn't say goodbye. [Chorus] No drums, no glory, no rising sun — Just green tea cooling, and morning to come. Just two souls breathing the same still air, One staying. One gone. Both aware. [Bridge] No war is worth a single dawn, No flag worth one unfinished cup. But men make choices history makes — And butterflies just flutter up. [Outro] She sits now in the afternoon, The garden quiet, warm, and wide. A swallowtail lands on her open hand — And stays A long Long While.