1. |
Intro
00:55
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2. |
Drakkar
03:15
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The sail is flagellated by furious gales,
They carry off walloping waves.
Eyes can not find the ocean’s pales,
It is darksome, as a night itself.
Hazy space is cut by the fast Drakkar,
Which is brightly lit by the Moon,
A reproach on the faraway spangles
Freezes on faces of severe oarsmen.
Shades of visions glide under water
As a whirlwind of storming ice floes.
Long oars hover above the abyss
In a captivity of mighty gorges.
Breath of death under pressure of gales
Wheels round the Dragon of seas.
Lightnings strike beyond the skyline,
Where the native land is.
Fevered by the elements the mental fury
Calls into being, utters a clarion call.
So many found the moulds, being not buried
Here, in the slimy and tenebrous floor.
The storm is unable for plenty of warriors,
Whose hearts are tempered as blades.
With every strike their resolve gets stronger –
Fight their way forward until the end.
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3. |
Depths Of Consciousness
03:09
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There’s no way to forget a primeval source,
Disregard for the truth, ashes and dust.
Aspiration for depths sense is unconscious;
To perceive the eternity smell in ages’ pulse.
Comprehension of sense is not for all comers -
The mysteries‘re well-kept by the Universe.
The celestial laws can’t be grasped from the gutter,
Only not equal ones to the rest know themselves.
Negation is like the blind ones’ roaming.
The Gods of eternal ice prevail in the spheres.
From Agartha bounds the fate’s firmament glowing
Rules over the way how the human world stirs.
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4. |
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5. |
Instrumental
03:05
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6. |
Height Of Irminsul
04:42
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In a distance of storms, Irminsul’s Height
By hundreds of branches tramples the arch,
Over Wotan’s sons tribes Fatherland,
Cuts a cloth of thunderous gales.
Under cliff stones a lash of tough rocks
Drinks deep waters of Niflheim’s gift,
Reaches a mount’s thigh of caves’ murk,
Whose walls conceal gold stones of lynx.
As pole axes edge to Valhalla peak height,
Where the wide of Asgard, at a top,
Waits for the sons, who had fallen in fight,
And prepares their throne, evermore.
Three worlds’ weight in power balance
Is held by the Life Tree on itself.
An infinite circle is heat of its warm –
From a birth of day to calm of the tombs.
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7. |
Hammer
03:44
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Fearlessly he went ahead
With Honour and Valour,
Proudly facing own death,
Breaking an interdict.
Of that power’s ban
Which baffled us,
Having left in our Hearts
Just constrained cries!
By sharp-edge brands
Being hammered in a forge,
By rapid arrows heads,
By shields strong as walls –
We’ll join the battle
In your serried ranks!
Meantime, we hear
Just a cry of wolf packs.
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8. |
Raven
04:16
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Powdered with black ashes
A soul spills its blood.
The only dream is scattered
By the gales of white.
Hundreds of thoughts were carried away
By a towering raven so high,
Having plunged in deep dreams of day,
It sank to the very mount’s thigh.
Having waved by a wing, at parting,
It broke on a slumber’s stones,
Reveries disappeared then, lurking,
With the black corbie and thoughts.
And you’ve got a choice from the raven
‘tween the stone and your daydreams,
But you won’t fly anymore to the azure haven –
Neither by prose, nor poetry – help by no means.
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9. |
In The Whisper Of Winds
05:31
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By striking steps from the centuries depths,
The welkin of grey hides a long-ago sign.
Hatred for foes – the distant stars light.
Who passed a blaze – feels no fear now.
Ravens whirl. Peal of thunder awakes
Courage. Rumble is heard, blood dictates.
Everlasting fight to the last strength.
Norns are still spinning stronger fate threads.
To join battle, the wise Avatar leads.
The spearman is brighter than hundred moons.
Through reverie shades, loyalty ‘til death.
On swords of steel a day-spring is based.
Ardent black smoke of the altar of war,
With no borders regard, whirls aloft the soil.
An eagle shadow-figure, nocturnal woods call.
Fire tongues keep traces of the past aeons.
Wolves’ den is amongst granite rocks.
Aspiration of will is in bayonets spikes.
Millions of hands are a new era voice.
Bonds yoke was cast off by pure spirit minds.
In the flashes of flame – white serpents’ dance.
Runes became parched on divine lips.
The truth cognition ray is in rustles of night,
In the soil blackness, in the whisper of winds.
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Casus Belli Musica Russia
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