Everyone applauded. Finally, after hundreds of failures, I stood on the stage as a winner. You could be proud of me - no false note. You know how long I was waiting for it, how I dreamed about it with you. For t these five-minute ovations, I shook my voice, worked over day and night, sometimes hated you for the criticism and for the words that "my pseudo-vibrate looks like the screams of a young Indian." I hated you and, at the same time, loved you as much as mom's lullabies in my childhood.
I sang our song. I was singing, telling the story about us, and felt such a burning pain in his chest, and I did not know where the I have forces to breathe. It is your help. You were here, I know.
The applause was silent and I did two steps to the end of the stage. Two steps. The sound of the heels in sudden silence was sounding as pure and melodious as my contemporary singing. “Why?" - I asked myself unexpectedly. This triumph was my dream, purpose, desire, happiness. My destiny. But…
I suddenly wanted to go to the mountain. To the mountains, where you decorated my hair with primrose flower. Do you remember how we dreamed under the brightest constellation? Dreamed just to be happy.
I’m crying. That's right, I just crying in the middle of a big stage.
I did two more steps and ... woke up.
I look at your photo as on an icon, and I want to return you for a minute. I would give all that I have, and even this triumph that was merely a fabrication of Morpheus, but made me understand so much to hear again … Your voice.
You promised that in songs you will always be with me. Therefore, I always sing and continue singing. For you. No - for me. For us.
Let me ask you at last - come in my dream and lead me to the distant mountains. Sing to me the last time ...
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