Codri
Codru (also plural Codrii; English: Forests or Woods) is the name of the forests that grow in the hilly part of central Moldova.
History
During the Middle Ages most of the Principality of Moldavia's hills were forested, and the forested area in general was referred to as Codrii, with bigger regional forests often given names such as Codrii Cosminului (Cosmin Codrii), Codrii Plonini (Plonini Codrii), Codrii Hotinului (Hotin Codrii; also Pădurea Hotinului, Hotin Forrest), Codrii Orheiului (Orhei Codrii), Codrii Lăpuşnei (Lăpuşna Codrii).
Although the hills represent about 80%–90% of the territory of Moldova, the forested area has decreased after 1800 due to intensive agriculture of the fertile land to about 12%. At the moment the area of the forest is continuously decreasing, both in surface and ecologically. In early 21st century the area is estimated under 35%. Despite the fact that there are still several big forests that have been preserved, including some designated as national parks, the country currently suffers from acute insufficiency of forests (with respect to its normal ecology), translated into poorer and less water for human and irrigation use.
Carving Out The Eyes Of God
Bastards of madness
Call out this prayer of vengeance
Speaking to enemies through these wounds of redemption
Tearing out their eyes with horror
Behold this chosen new devise
As the silence pleads this forgiveness
A senseless begging for absolution
Upon this entrance into oblivion
This fallen angel of defiance, destitute to isolation
Hold tight to liberation, in the form of reprisal
Project of this restored frame, in these pain filled alterations
This new threat of changing life restless in this completion
Powerless you crawl like pigs
Soon to be slaughtered
Suckling to a faith that you avidly hoped would save you all
These offerings will bring us our justice.
For these years of diluted lies
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
These hands held into the sky so the dark
Winds can taste the blood of murder
As the blackest hearts obey thoughts of evil
Deathlorn rites, endure the lust for revenge
Surrender the state of embracement and release
This life from the dark interiors
Discomfort of this assisted torment is given in these regards
A scourge of awakening
Prisoned in the rites of blood
Bestowed with ancient plagues, we will forge a disease
Of rape upon your ideals
Within this lifeblood we will find the truths as blades
Slice open their necks
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
Once reconstructed the swarm will digest
The souls of this imperfection
Sterilizing faith bringer has discharged
This assembly of this damnation
Burden me with your weak
Curse me with your sick
In blood filled walls I lie confined
