- Жанр
- Блэк-метал
- Лицензия
-
- Текст
- В полумраке - капище.
Языки пламени вздымаются вверх.
На моих зрачках - отражения слов...
In twilight there is Ritual Circle with Fire.
Bodies of flame are wallowing higher and higher.
Who is it? An elder in white.
Whirlwind of his energetics is ascending in cold light.
Spirals are rising upwards.
On pupils there is reflection of Words.
Druid belongs to Pure Blood.
He must be ocean-wide.
He has not only to perfйct his own nature,
But insoul all environmental creature.
Wisdom in this world must be with sword,
But before it should become Wisdom and its own Lord.
Is it necessary to be severe?
Otherwise it's impossible to be here.
Middlebrows and other objects about us
Are very cruel because they ask
And demand benediction
Without necessity and their own position.
It is an attribute of internal failure.
A real sage doesn't require any more favour.
A falcon has straightened wings...
Clicking and crashing above eyebrows...
I'm throwing pupils into fire...
The flame is taking the form of sword.
A falcon has straightened wings...
Clicking and crashing above eyebrows...
I'm throwing pupils into fire...
There's the Mage in the sword.
The Words are breathing inside,
Penetrating into Space of Night.