Someone keeps vanishing at the edge of touch: seen walking in a river’s shadow like snow on water, held like mist, named into the wind, gone before the light can be kept. The speaker lives for that absence anyway—για σένα ζω—like a wave dying on land, a heart going out like fire in snow. What the song leaves standing is not reunion but the bargain that replaces it. Against the muse who slips away it answers with a command: Τραγούδα, Βάρδε, τραγούδα—sing, Bard, sing; live, my love; give me your light. The title is the first person of that same verb.

Under a steady motor pulse and warm plucked strings, a female voice keeps the plea circulating rather than resolving it. The groove holds the body in place while the words admit the beloved will not stay. After the last sound, what remains is singing itself as the only contact still possible.