Oh, you’re probably thinking of the “Moonlit Cradle” lullaby that used to float over the wheat in Velykyi Vysoky before the front lines tore the village apart. I’ve dug up a handful of fragments in the old parish ledger—just a handful of stanzas, all written in the same shaky hand. The refrain goes something like “Babe, sleep, the night is long, the stars will sing you on.” It’s a lullaby that even the soldiers claimed could calm the wounded. The ghostly refrain you hear in your dreams might be the echo of that very tune, or just your mind trying to fill in a missing line. Either way, it deserves to be remembered. If you want the full text, let me know—I’ll pull out the transcriptions from the monastery archives.