Hatt blaess Heimdallr horn er a lopti. Maelir Odinn vid Mims hofud. Skelfr
Yggdrasils askr standardi, ymr it aldna tre en jotunn losnar. Kjoll fekk
autan, koma munu Muspells of log lydir, en Lori styrir. Par ro fifmegir med
freka allir. Peim er brodir Byleists i for Genngr Odins son vid ulf vega,
Vidarr of veg at vakdyri. Laetr hann megi Hvedrungs mund of standa hjor til
hjarta. Pa er helnt fodur. Hwat er med Asum? Hvat er med alfum? Esir ro a
pingi. Sty nja dvergar fyrir steindurum, veggbergs visir. Vitud er enn eda
hva? Surtr ferr sunnan med sviga laevi. Skinn af sverdi sol valtiva.
Grjotbjord ghanat en gift rata, troda halir Helveg en himinn knofnar Genge
inn maeri morg Hlodynjar nepr at nadri nids okvidnum. Munu halir allir
heimstod rydja er af modi drepr Midgards veorr. Hrymr erk austan hefisk lind
fyrir. Snysk jormungandr i jotunmodi. Ormr knyr unnir orm mun hlakka, slitr
nai nidfolr, naglfar losnar. Pa komr Hlinar harmr annarr fram er odinn ferr
vid ulf vega, en bani Belja bjart at Surti: par mun Friggjar falla angan.
Sol mun sortma, Sokkr fold i mar. Hverfa af himni heidar stjornur. Geisar
While we may believe
our world - our reality
to be that is - is but one
manifestation of the essence
Other planes lie beyond the reach
of normal sense and common roads
But they are no less real
than what we see or touch or feel
Denied by the blind church
'cause these are not the words of God
- the same God that burnt the
(September - 92)
(Instrumental)
(September - 92)
(Instrumental)
(6:13)
On the slope of a naked rock somewhere in Ska■inawj¯ - the isles of Ska■is - a blonde, fur-clad man immortalises his memory of Mannus, the oldest Ing. A large manlike shape is engraved in the rock; bloodred in colour, with a large phallus. His hands are stretching toward the sky. Mannus, the son of Tuisto, made sure his tribe survived the cold north together with his sons; Inguz, Herminuz and Istw¯. TuistoÒs heart is warmed by the sight of his descendants; he knows the gods are not forgotten. Then - he reasons - there is hope after all, for the coming generations.
(Musik und Text Ma:rz 1993 a.y.p.s.)
"Die Quelle des Urd ist nicht la:nger ein dunkles Tief, in das wir starren, sondern ein lebender Strom, der fruchtbar durch die La:nder des Nordens fliebt. Ja, gegen die ho:chsten Visionen der Essenz kann sich dieses Leben nun in Entwicklung seiner gru:ndenden Kraft und Sonderlichkeit erheben, erheben zum Allvater, der u:ber Walhall ist, zu ihm, dem wahren Gott..."
(Johan Sebastian Cammermeyer Welhaven)
(Musik und Text Dezember 1992 a.y.p.s.)
Tra:nen aus den Augen so kalt, Tra:nen aus den Augen, in das Gras so gru:n.
Als ich hier liege, wird die Bu:rde von mir genommen fu:r immer und
ewig, fu:r immer und ewig.
Habt acht vor dem Licht, es kann euch entfu:hren, dahin, wo es kein Bo:ses gibt.
Es wird euch entfu:hren, fu:r alle Ewigkeit.
Nacht ist so scho:n (wir brauchen sie so sehr wie den Tag).
Hear my Sword
...in the Making
Of my Spell
Literally
Damkuna, Iftraga
Sheb Nigurepur, Dafast
(January - 92)
(Instrumental)
(2:14)
Happy men and women follow a trail in the woods. The follow a wagon led by a priest, towards a holy lake. Wonderful colours, dancing happy people, the scene is natureÒs love. Dancing along are the thralls, the sacrifice to Mother Earth, this sunny day, dancing along towards a holy lake. Hail to Mother Earth, the thralls are shouting. Hail and joy, before they are strangled and lowered into the lake, happy and smiling, willingly giving their lives to strengthen nature. Such is true love, and itÒs strength!
(2:38)
Alone in the night, Fij¯ is crying; she has been left by her husband who had to leave to fight the darkness of matter. Thoughts of what once was flow through her mind; their play in the green grass and under colourful trees, wonderful fields of flowers, fresh fruits and berries, and beautiful music from the elven choirs. Running waters make them dream, lakes where they bathed, riverfalls and marvelous clouds in the sky. They were happy, they had their Golden Age. Now, all she has left are her Golden Tears, that run from her skyblue eyes, as a witness to what once was - to what is lost forever; until a New World is born, after Ragnar°k. In the meantime, give our dear Fij¯ some warm thoughts, to help her through the cold nights.
Eine Lichtung im Walde
wo die Sonne scheint
Eingeschlossen durch Baeume
sind wir gefangen
in dieser Lichtung Gottes
Es brennt, es schmerzt
als das Licht unser Fleisch leckt
gen Himmel, Rauch, eine Wolke
unserer Form
Gefangen durch das Begraebnis
gequaelt durch die Guete Gottes
keine Flammen, kein Hass
du hattest recht - wir kannen in die
(6:15)
A mother mourns the loss of her son. The most wonderful man in the world; light and shining, fair and beautiful as no other man. Light blond hair, wonderful skyblue eyes and a skin so fair it shines! Tall and handsome, strong and brave, perfect in all his being. Now he is dead! Silent. Alone. Watching the lands and others from a window up high in the clouds. Cold of sorrow, exhausted by grief; the very little remaining life is fading away. Too tired to move, too mournful to think of anything else then her dead son. The others are preparing the defense of the town, and her husband has left to find the avenger for the killing. Nobody thinks of her, nobody has any time for her. She is left alone, to mourn the death of her son.
When night falls
she cloaks the world
in impenetrable darkness.
A chill rises
from the soil
and contaminates the air
suddenly...
(April - 92)
(Instrumental)
(4:28)
Voices from the spirit world can be heard through the dark winternights, the heartbeats of the spirit. It is the holy twelve days of Yule. Dark shapes can be seen in the sky; riders of death. They suddenly charge down from the clouds in wonderful wilderness; kings and chieftains, thieves and murderers - all in the same phalanx, drifting mysteriously through the air on spirit horses, arriving when least expected. Black shields, furs from bear and wolf, shining blades, open wounds and ropes still tied around their necks; they are WuotanÒs pack of warges, the undead and the dead - the immortal warriors of Ansuzgarda! The werewolves haunt the sacred twelve days of Yule in packs, looking after the living; hail the sacred traditions, hail the spirits of the dead, hail the holy ritual of Wuotan, or face the wrath of the Ansuz and the hooves of Sleipnir. Face the Ansuzgardaraiw¯!
(Musikk og tekst skrevet Mars 1993 a.y.p.s.)
"Urds bronn er ikke lenger et dunkelt dyp vi stirrer ned
i, men en levende strom som gar befruktende gjennem
Nordens land. Ja, mod Tilvaerelsens hoiste Syner kan
dette Liv nu haeve sig i Udfoldelse af sin Grundkraft og
Eiendommelighed, haeve sig til Alfader, der er over
Valhal, til ham, til den sande Gud..."
(Johan Sebastian Cammermeyer Welhaven)
The Fire in the Sky is Extinguished
Blue Waters no Longer Cry
The Dancing of Trees Has Stopped
The Stream of Freshness from Cold Winds
Exists no Longer
The Rain Has Stopped to Drip
From the Sky
Still Dripping Exists
From the Veins of a Nearly Dead Boy
Once There Was Hatred
Once There Was Cold
There is Only
A Dark Stone Tomb
With an Altar
An Altar which
Serves As a Bed
A Bed of Eternal Sleep
The Dreams of the Human in Sleep
Are Dreams of Relief
A Gate out of Hell
Into the Void of Death
Yet Undisturbed
The Human Sleep
And One Day
Will the Grave Be Unlocked
And the Soul
Must Return to His World
But This Time as
A Lost Forgotten Sad Spirit
Doomed
To Haunt
Ingen stillhet her ute - en droem
Her hvor maanen raar - en droem
Jeg hater denne skog
hvor ingen fare truer
Ingen ulv
ingen bjoern
intet troll
puster
Ingen onde aander
ingenting
puster
Bare meg og natten -
bare meg og natten
En natt skal jag reise
(April - 92)
(Instrumental)
I en moerk skog med kalde tjern
Et sted hvor Herren av verdens
ild ikke rekker
I det moerkeste i den store
av natten - av tid
Og de samlet seg
og blev doedens hus
Barn av tidens krefter
Bran av den mektiges soenner
(February -89)
(Instrumental)
Tears from the eyes so cold, tears from the eyes, in the grass so green.
As I lie here, the burden is being lifted once and for all, once and for all.
Beware of the light, it may take you away, to where no evil dwells.
It will take you away, for all eternity.
When night falls
She cloaks the world
In impenetrable darkness
A chill rises
From the soil
And contaminates the air
Suddenly...
Life has new meaning
When night falls
She cloaks the world
In impenetrable darkness
A chill rises
From the soil
And contaminates the air
When night falls
She cloaks the world
In impenetrable darkness
A chill rises
From the soil
And contaminates the air
Suddenly...
Life has new meaning
Life has new meaning
This is War
I Lie Wounded on Wintery Ground
With Hundred of Corpses around
Many Wounded Crawl Helplessly around
On the Blood Red Snowy Ground
Cries of the (ha, ha) Suffering Sound
Cries for Help to All Their Dear Moms
Many Hours of Music
Many Drops of Blood
Many Shiverings and Now I Am Dead
And Still We Must Never Give up
Pa reid Hermodr aptr leid sina ok kom i Asgard ok sagdi oll tidindi pau er
hann hafdi set ok heyrt. Pvi naest sendu Esir um allam heim orindreka at
Baldr vaeri gratinn or Helju. En allir gerdu pat, menninir ok kykvendin ok
jordin ok steinarnir ok tre ok allr malmr, sva, sem pu munt sent hafa at
pessir hlutir grata pa er peir koma or frosti ok i hita. Pa er sendimenn foru
heim ok hofdu vel rekit sin eyrindi, finna peir i hellinokkvorum hvar gygr
sat. Hon nefndisk Pokk. Peir bidja hana grata Baldr or Helju. Hon segir:
"Pokk mun grata purrum tarum Baldrs balfarar. Kyks ne dauds nautka ek karls
sonar: haldi Hel pvi er hefir."
'En pess geta menn at par hafi verti Loki Laufeyjarrson er flest hefir illt
Sa Par sitja i onduugi Baldr brodur sinn, ok dvaldisk Hermodr par um nottina.
En at morni pa beiddisk Hermodr af Helju at Baldr skyldi rida heim med honum
ok sagdi hversu mikill gratr var med Asum. En Hel sagdi at pat skyldi sva
astsaell sem sagt er,
"Ok ef allir hlutir i heiminum, kykvir ok daudir, grata hann, pa skal hann
fara til Asa aptr, en haldask med Helju ef nakk varr maelir vid eda vill eigi
grata."
Pa stod Hermodr upp, en Baldr leidir hann ut or hollunni ok tok hringinn
Draupni ok serdi Odni til minja, en Nanna sendi Frigg ripti ok enn fleiri
En pat er at segja fra Hermodi at hann reid niu naetr dokkva dala ok
djupa sva at hann sa ekki fyrr en hann kom til arinnar Gjallar ok reid
a Gjallar bruna. Hon er pokd lysigulli. Modgudr er nenfd maer su er gaetir
bruarinna. Hon spurdi hann at nafni eda aett ok sagdi at hinn fyrra dag ridu
um bruna fimm fylki drauda manna,
"en eigi dyrn bruin minnr undir einum per ok eigi hefir pu lit daudra manna.
Hvi ridr pu her a Helveg?"
'Hann svarar at "ek skal rida til Helja at leita Baldrs. Eda hvart hefir pu
makkvat set Baldr a Helvegi?"
'En hon sagdi at Baldr hafdi par ridit um Gjallar bru, "en nidr ok nordr
Liggr Helvegr."
'Pa reid Hermodr par til er hann kom at Helgrindum. Pa ste af hestinum ok
gyrdi hann fast, steig upp ok keyrdi hann sporum. En hestrinn hljop sva hart
ok yfir grindina at hann kom hvergi naer. Pa reid Hermodr heim til hallarinar
Imellom buskene vi stirret paa de
som minnet om andre tider
og fortalte at haapet var borte
for alltid...
Vi hoerte alvesang og vann som
sildret
Det som en gang var er nu borte
alt blodet...
all lengsel og sorg som hersket
og de foelelser som kunne roeres
er vekk...
for alltid...
Hey, are you out there? Can you hear my song to you?
Listen to me! `cos this is your chances!
Come back here again! You will Find mercy again!
Do you remember your life as a human? Do you remember your fiction dreams?
Can you remember all that is wrong? Are you insane, or in dope?
Have you ever seen a dead man walk? have you ever seen a whore that talks?
Can you feel this lifeless love? can you feel all that is wrong?
`cos this are the days we all enjoy!
En ukjent stemme kalte
Fra taarnet hvor ingen bodde
Fra bortenfor skogen
Hvor intet levde
Et rop i droemmen saa skjoent
Som stemmen til dronningen av natten
Vi vaaknet og saa maanen
Delvis dekket av dystre skyer
Det var kaldt og vaatt
Paa vaar ferd inn i riket
Av ufoedte tanker
Endelig kan vi se hva som kalte
Eine Gestalt lag auf dem Boden
so b”sartig, dab die Blumen um sie herum
verwelkten
eine dunkle Seele lag auf dem Boden
so kalt, dab alles Wasser sich in Eis verwabdelte
Durch das Gebuesch starrten wir
auf jene
die uns an andere Zeiten
erinnerten
und sagten, dass alle Hoffnung
fuer immer
entschwunden war...
Wir hoerten Elfengesang und
Wasserrauschen
Was einst war, ist nun vorbei
all das Blut...
all das Verlangen und der
Kummer, der herrschte
und die Gefuehle, die man greifen
konnte
sind nicht mer...
fuer immer...
Wir sind nicht gestorben...
My eyes are shut I cannot see
though clear is thy despair
I drift away - far away
from places of which you seek
Though I seek thy hell
yuo close the gate before me
Your life is right, and I'm to
follow to your paradise
I cannot fall in love
love is for them
Lusting for the sky -
Heaven
Why did I come to this world
of sorrow why is this true
Where is my dagger of sacrifice
I will open the gates to Hell one
En skikkelse l† der p† bakken
s† vond at de blomster rundt visnet
en dyster sjel l† der p† bakken
s† kald at alt vann ble til is
En skygge da falt over skogen
da skikkelsens sjel visnet bort
for skikkelsens sjel var en skygge
Gjennom taakete daler
mellom dystre fjell
under graa skyer
mitt i svarte natt
paa en stolt hest
ifort svarte kler
sterke vaapen i haand
Uendelig med dode trer
en evighet av kulde
over stokk og stein
inn i skyggene...
Ut fra taaken
ut fra morke
ut fr fjellets store skygge
drommens slott...
da stopper rittet
som varte i en livstid
Durch neblige Taeler
inmitten purpurner Berge
unter grauen Wolken
in der schwarzen Nacht
Auf einem stolzen Pferd
in schwarzem Gewand
schwere Waffen in der Hand
Die Unendlichkeit toter Baeume
ewige Kaelte
ueber Stock und Stein
in die Schatten...
Aus Nebel
aus Dunkelheit
aus dem Schatten der Berge
das Schloss der Traeume...
Dann endete der Ritt
der ein Leben lang dauerte
der Herr schreitet (In das
En aapning i skogen
hvor solen skinner
Hindret av trerne fanges vi
i denne guds appning
Det brenner det svir
nar lyset slikker vaart kjott
opp mot skyene en roeyk
en sky av vaares form
Fanget av begravelsen
pinse vi av guds godhet
ingen flammer intet hat
Drifting
In the Air
Above a Cold Lake
Is a Soul
From an Early
Better Age
Grasping for
A Mystic Thought
In Vain...but Who's to Know
Further on Lies Eternal Search
For Theories to Lift the Gate
Only Locks Are Made Stronger
And More Keys Lost as Logic Fades
In the Pool of Dreams the Water Darkens
For the Soul That's Tired of Search
As Years Pass by
The Aura Drops
As Less and Less
Feelings Touch
Stupidity
Has Won too Much
The Head is a Head of a Serpent
From its Nostrils Mucus Trickles...
The Ears Are those of a Basilisk
His Horns Are Twisted into three Curls
The Body is a Sun Fish, Full of Stars
The Base of His Feet Are Claws
His Name Is Sassu Wunnu
I wonder how winter will be
with a spring that I shall never see
I wonder how night will be
with a day that I shall never see
I wonder how life will be
with a light I shall never see
I wonder how life will be
with a pain that lasts eternally
In every night there's a different black
in every night I wish that I was back
to the time when I rode
through the forests of old
In every winter there's a different cold
in every winter I feel so old
so very old as the night
so very old as the dreadful cold
I wonder how life will be
with a death that I shall never see
I wonder why life must be
a life that lasts eternally
I wonder how life will be
with a death that I shall never see
I wonder why life must be
En Edirnir tokulu lik Baldrs ok Flutti til saever. Hringhorni het skip
Baldrs. Hann var allra skipa mestr. Hann vildu godin fram setja ok gera par
a balfgr Baldrs. En skipit gekk hvergi fram. Pa var sent i Jgtunheima eptir
gygi peiri er Hyrrokkin het. En er hon kom ok reid vargi ok hafdi hoggorm at
taumu pa hljop hon af hestinum, en Odinn kalladi til berserki fjora at gaeta
hestsins, ok fengu peir eigi hadit nema peir feldi hann. Pa gekk Hyrrokkin a
framstafn nokkvans ok hratt fram i fyrsta vidbbragdi sva at eldr hraut or
hlunnunum ok lond oll skulfu. Pa vard Porr reidr ok greip hammarin ok myndi
pa brjota hofud hennar adr en godin oll badu henni fridar. Pa var borit ut
a skipit lik Baldrs, ok er pat sa kona hans Nanna Nespsdottir pa sprakk hon
af harmi ok do. Var hon borin a balit ok slegit i eldi. Pa stod Porr at ok
vigdi balit med Mjolni. En fyrir fotum hans rann dvergr nokkur. Sa er Litr
nefndr. En Porr spyrndi foeti sinum a hann ok hratt honum i eldinn ok brann
Drums of war sound. Warriors are gathered to fight on the Wígriðr
plain. Charging men, wolves, ravens and gods, worms and beasts of
darkness; the plain is lit with fire. Blood is flowing, bits of
flesh, severed limbs, smashed skulls and bodies lie strewn across
the plain. Screams cut the air, screams of anger and pain, the
sound of metal blades and armour clashing, clubs smashing bodies.
Then, for a brief moment, everything stops. It is as if the
universe holds its breath. Wuotan has fallen on the Wígriðr
plain; swallowed by Fanjarîhô. For a moment the time stands
On the slope of a naked rock somewhere in Skaþinawjô - the isles
of Skaþis - a blonde, fur-clad man immortalises his memory of
Mannus, the oldest Ing. A large manlike shape is engraved in the
rock; bloodred in colour, with a large phallus.
His hands are stretching toward the sky. Mannus, the son of
Tuisto, made sure his tribe survived the cold north together with
his sons; Inguz, Herminuz and Istwô. Tuisto’s heart is warmed by
the sight of his descendants; he knows the gods are not
forgotten. Then - he reasons - there is hope after all, for the
Childhood Memories. A never ending scenery
Son of a witch. Is it a fantasy?
Almost rotten and dead. The eye that never sees.
A meaningful journey, finally to the land of the free!
See no evil, my mind had to escape.
Forbidden tales of valleys and lakes.
Try to forget, the pain is yours to keep!
A dead poets story! Never heard before.
Sleep tight children. Don`t you think you`re gonna fall?
Begging me for a new life! Your insides turn raw!
Forgotten words at the end of the hall!
A new circle has begun! A storm of clouds covers the moon!
The man of mystery watches! Doomed to be alone!
The gods have just managed to tie Fanjarîhô to the ground. Tíw
lost his right hand during the process; it was the wolf’s
security, a guarantee he would not be tricked; but he was indeed.
His jaw has been bolted to the ground with a broadsword, and foam
runs from his mouth in two rivers. The rivers Wán and Wíl - of
hope and will. The gods are laughing in joy, and walk happily
back towards their home; the terrible wolf has been rendered
harmless. Only Tíw is left, bleeding heavily from the wrist,
watching the suffering of the wolf, as it twists its body in
torment. He looks into the eyes of Fanjarîhô and sees its very
soul, its pain and sorrow; its dreadful faith. Getting up, he
walks back to Êrôn to let her heal his wound, stop his bleeding.
Now he knows what it is like to see into the eyes of Fire. He
will never be the same again, he did not only lose his hand, when
Hadnur the Blind shot the arrow that killed Fijô’s good and
shining son. The gods could not utter a single word when they saw
what had happened. He understood that something was wrong, but
nobody said anything; not to him nor to anyone else. Not for a
while. He started to cry, feeling the terrible loss, but it was
too late. Beldegir was dead by his hands. He walked away, alone,
to his house, to cry and mourn in solitude. Hated by the others,
spurned by the others. He could not help it, he did know what
would happen when he shot that arrow. He did not mean to kill his
own brother.
Hadnur is waiting for the avenger to come, waiting for Woli to
kill him. He regrets deeply what he has done, but knows death is
the only solution. He will be back when the new world rises from
the ashes of the old. Then he will no longer be alone, he will
meet his brother Beldegir again, and embrace him in the grass
where Wuotan, his dear father, was killed by Fanjarîhô. Then he
Voices, from the ones above us. From the rats and the demons, from wise to dumb.
And we all cry, cry for what we have lost.
Just because of time, and so we die!
The paradise is lost!
All is gone to hell!
Happy days are over!
Will they come again
This is the price we have to pay!
I Immaterialize
And Slowly Drift
Into the Unknown
With the Cold Winds with Soul
The Wintery Plains Lie Untouched
I Ride on My Elements
Towards the Stars Unseen
A Quest
For Knowledge
In the
Astral
Luminous
Stench Intensifies
As I
Near a Spectral Sphere
After a Hundred
Men's Lifetime
In Analyzing
I learn
To Consume
The Sphere
Of Immense Power
And To
Become Immortal
Darkness Hate and Winter
Rules the Earth when I Return
Between Races
A Goal Is Reached
Sá Þar sitja í øndugi Baldr bróður sinn, ok dvalðisk Hermóðr þar um
nóttina. En at morni þá beiddisk Hermóðr af Helju at Baldr skyldi ríða
heim með honum ok sagði hversu mikill grátr var með Ásum. En Hel sagði
at þat skyldi svá reyna hvárt Baldr var svá á
stsæll sem sagt er,
'"Ok ef allir hlutir í heiminum, kykvir ok dauðir, gráta hann, þá skal
hann fara til Ása aptr, en haldask með Helju ef nakkvarr mælir við eða
vill eigi gráta."
'Þá stóð Hermóðr upp, en Baldr leiðir hann út ór høllinni ok tók
hringinn Draupni ok sendi Óðni til minja, en Nanna sendi Frigg ripti ok
