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The album "Heliolatry" is a story about warmth and light, and the triumphant joy of the sun worshipers. It’s a tale about the way how he, Yarilo, the young prince of the firmament, descends to earth with his shining crown on his head… how he does not disdain to be behind the plough in order to plow the ice and snow, and crack the ice chains with his full force… how he starts dancing in a round and involves all the folks in the reel, and this kingly young man plays the flute just like an ordinary skomorokh… how he dances faster and faster, whirling and sweeping the snow and cold with his violent dance… how he drives the old lady-winter away… and how, having dealt with this disgusting winter, he walks through the blossoming fields, enters the green groves, where he is to be met by the choir of spring birds full of adoration with him.
The thawed soft soil waits with love for the grain to give birth to a bountiful harvest. The plowman walks across the field behind the plough, and, above his head, in the azure sky, a lark sings – the joyful bird of these glorious days! The gardens, groves and ravines are covered with flowers, the leaves are green, and the singing birds sing their hymns day and night – everyone tirelessly glorifies the Sun in their own manner.
Summer follows after spring - the grass grows, the meadows blossom, and the bees busy buzz over them the whole day – it’s the high point of the honey harvest. Hot drunken air of meadows, sweet fragrant haze of wild grasses! What a great time!
Oh, summer storms! The wind rushes suddenly, and breaks the branches and grass down, tears the leaves from the trees, churns the rivers. The horizon is poured with lead blue – it’s the way the warrior hosts of clouds flow as lava. The thunder splits the sky, the lightning flashes, they strike the ground together, and the divine living fire will be born on earth from their thunderbolts. It is not easy to find such kind of fire, but it’s even harder to revive, nourish, and bring it up. And then – tame, entame its upbringing power. So the gods descend to earth and rejoice with the people, they drink the heady joy of Life from a common bowl as equals!
The evening succeeds the day, the twilight follows the light. Tired grasses enjoy the dew, and we walk along the wet grasses, we walk through the dew deep into the forest. Without saying anything, without saying to anyone. We’ve got a case and a goal there, the goal we will say not a word about, because there are no words of this kind in the whole world. We will be in the darkness of the summer night there – looking for and find… we will find IT in any way. And, having found IT, we will be able to take, take IT with us. Namely THIS.
And again – the day follows the night, it’s the time of a shining hot noon! Glittering of glossy foliage… the waves of grasses, over which a warm wind runs about… the Volga is spreading below the bluff from horizon to horizon. I feel free and joy on open spaces of the Volga, on my land!
…And this cycle of life will never end.