Мельница Лента в волосах

[petropavel]

There are some roads that won't let you back,
I'm awaiting for tide on a strange waters bank.
Wind eluded my sails and the water is still,
Seas got flat like a mirror and the sailling's unreal.

I would turn into ribbon tied in somebody's hair
I would sail to my love, charm away my despair,
Like ethereal silk I would softly descend,
Please do whisper my name, give a touch with your hand!