Forest spirits of Balkan mythology who dance naked under moonlight, speaking with snakes and streams—samodivas are the raw, untamed soul of the land itself.
Their beauty bewitches travelers.
Their circle dances mark where the pagan spirit of the Balkans still breathes. This track brings ancient native songs about these wild guardians back to life: triumphant horo rhythms pulse through layered a cappella vocals in the style of Bulgaria's highland villages, driven by the deep heartbeat of tupan drums. Livestock bells ring faintly in the distance. Birds call from woodland edges. The dance builds, voices interweaving in playful meters passed down through centuries—then suddenly, silence. A single crystal bell chimes, and the forest holds its breath.
The first Samovilla track with a full video, where myth steps out of shadow into light.
Samodivas' Song
Samovilla
Lyrics: 2024, Dan Loveschmidt
AI English Translation ================= Samodivas, you wild-beautiful ones, Through green forests you wander, Under stars you dance untamed, Like wind, you weave the paths. With flower's breath, with charm unnamed, Under moonlight you weave magic. Who sees you, in an instant will remain, Their heart with you they'll lose. There, where streams intertwine, In crystal water you bathe, And forests bloom from your song, In the night you weave dances of fireflies. Among shadows hidden in forest's embrace, You dance in circles until dawn, In your songs echo the voices, Of storm, love, and stars. If at the fountain you arrive at dawn, And the water has turned bitter, Samodivas there were singing songs, Forest secrets in dreams bequeathing. In night when forests and fields grow quiet, Samodiva voices whisper in darkness. Whoever hears them, loses their soul, Into darkness sinking... without trace. Original Bulgarian Lyrics ================= Самодиви вий луди-красиви, по́-гори́ зелени що бродите, под зве́зди танцувате диви, кайо вятър пътеки пле́тете. С дъх на цвеке, с чар нена́зван, под луната магия редите. Кой ви види, в миг ке остане, сърцето си с вас ще загуби. Там, дека потоци се сплитат, с кристалната во́да се къпете, и горите от песен разцъфнат, в нощта на светулки танци пле́тете. Сред сянките скрити в пазвите горски, танцувате в кръг до зори, във вашите песни ехтят гласовете, на буря, любов и звезди. На чешмата ли стигнеш в зората, и водата горчива е станала, самодиви там песни са пяли, тайни горски в съня завещали. В нощта притихват гори и поля, самодивски гласове шептят във тъма. Който ги чуе, губи душа, във мрака потъва... без следа.
If Slavic folklore has ever pulled you into its dark forests, you know the samodivas. They are the wild ones—naked spirits dancing under moonlight, speaking with snakes, bathing in crystal streams where the forest opens to sky. They are kind to nature but not necessarily kind to you. Their beauty bewitches - their songs steal souls. They are the raw, untamed paganism of the Balkan lands, older than memory, guardians of nature's most primal edges.
Samodivas dance in circles through the night, and where they've danced, the grass holds the mark. Mortals who stumble into their circle cannot leave—they're pulled into the dance until dawn breaks them, or they vanish into the woods without trace. The spirits move between shadow and firefly light, their voices carrying storms, love, and starlight in equal measure.
In the lyrics, these beliefs breathe. In Verse 5, there's the bitter water at dawn—if you reach a spring at daybreak and taste bitterness, samodivas have sung there, weaving forest secrets into your dreams. In the Bridge and opening verses, they dance wildly under stars, weaving paths with the wind until sunrise. Their pagan circle dances in forest clearings are mesmerizing, beautiful, deadly—mortals who try to join cannot escape. And in the Outro, the final truth whispers: "Whoever hears them, loses their soul, drowns in darkness... without trace." Their songs bewitch travelers so completely that to hear them means madness, entrapment, disappearing forever into green shadow.
This song was written from nostalgia—for roots, for nature, for the traditional Bulgarian paganism that still hums beneath the modern world. It's a modern interpretation of the aggregated mythos, pulling together the threads of ancient belief and bringing them back to life. Not as museum piece, but as living breath.
The producer, Dan Loveschmidt, carries Bulgarian roots with Greek family lines woven in, Bulgarian as mother tongue. He grew up with Christmas-time surovachki, with kuker masks and pagan rituals that never quite died, with the knowledge that some things in the forest are older than churches.
Samovilla's voice brings the mythology home. Her vocal performance is clean and polished, yet she knows the native Bulgarian female singing tradition intimately—that dense, playful yet powerful quality that echoes the gaida, the way voices tighten and soar in the mountain villages. She's comfortable with Bulgarian dialects, with the texture of the language when it's sung rather than spoken. In this track, she doesn't push into that raw traditional style, but you can hear that she knows the shape of it, the way it sits in the throat.