The sands of time

The sands of time slip through my fingers like silk, The eastern wind whispers a forgotten lesson, still. In the patterns of the night — a secret of old roads, Each moment’s a precious, fragile bloom that slowly unfolds. Stars burn above the desert in the quiet hush, Shadows glide across the dunes in a dreamlike rush. Time weaves destinies into a single design, Opening the door to a wordless, vast sign. Chorus: Oh, sands of time, carry me forward, don’t stay, Let the past fade softly into the mist, slip away. To the rhythm of the duduk and the ring of silver strings, I hear the whisper of the ages — it speaks to me, it sings. The caravan vanishes in the golden far-off light, Like a mirage that fades at the edge of the earth’s sight. But in my heart lives the echo of distant years, A quiet melody I once knew through the tears. The sands keep their secrets deep beneath the sand, Drawing patterns on the moonlit wave, hand in hand. Don’t rush the moment — let the flight linger on, Time dances on, and my heart understands the song. Chorus: Oh, sands of time, carry me forward, don’t stay, Let the past fade softly into the mist, slip away. To the rhythm of the duduk and the ring of silver strings, I hear the whisper of the ages — it speaks to me, it sings.