Those close choir syllables, “Ri ni sa,” are barely more than a breath over the thin drone.

The plucked keyboard is exposed enough now that its pattern becomes the center, with strings just warming the underside.

This opening stays patient: the harpsichord-like arpeggios keep turning clearly, and the string undertones answer without pushing into a beat.

The high voice takes the new cell, “Soro ri pa,” and holds it in the same suspended air instead of changing the pace.

Now the heavier color has joined: the low weight and thicker orchestral sound sit under the returning “Ri ni sa.”

The groove settles here rather than racing; accents lean around the pulse while the earlier choir-and-plucked-keyboard world gets folded into the thicker mass.

This new phrase, “Tae uli na,” starts a second chamber of the song; the rhythm underneath stays disciplined while the vocal shape changes.

On “Sae ri laira,” the vocal line opens wider, but the backing keeps the same firm turn beneath it.

“Dae la” is such a small repeated handle, but against this steady backing it starts to feel like a hook.

That earlier “Dor i die” returns in a darker setting, so recognition comes through the vocal contour more than through any clear meaning in the words.

The late chant keeps stretching over the same turning pulse; the track is changing by mouth shape and density, not by leaving the pattern behind.

The heavy male voice is in the foreground on “Voi,” with a rough grain the earlier operatic lines didn’t have.

The repeated figure has stopped, and the last seconds are actual silence rather than another held suspension.