Whether on Ida’s shady brow,
Or in the chambers of the East,
The chambers of the sun, that now
From ancient melody have ceas’d;

Whether in Heav’n ye wander fair,
Or the green corners of the earth,
Or the blue regions of the air,
Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,
Beneath the bosom of the sea
Wand’ring in many a coral grove,
Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!

How have you left the ancient love
That bards of old enjoy’d in you!
The languid strings do scarcely move!
The sound is forc’d, the notes are few!

Into The Battle

For we are the doomed
Rising from the ground
Into the winds of darkness
Without any other sound

We dance the leaves of autumn
We gather by the oak
Our axes rise above us
We’re here to pay the oath

Dancing in the cold with the wolves around the oak
For we shall be ready to defend the sacred earth
Come to us oh, Mother, breathe the bloodlight upon us
Send our hearts to heaven before the battle shall begun

Alive yet dead inside
The horde is dancing faster
With axes as theyr wives
with blood as only master

They eat and drink the dead
The battle’s at its higher
protected by the winds
by hands of steel and fire

Iceage Dreams

I’ve seen the moonlight trapped inside
your eyes that closed in peace
frightened by the touch of an awful sight
that freezed theyr dreams of bliss

A touch of a king that wears his sword
with the pride of a wolf that killed
the sheep guarded close by a thousand dogs
and chained to its sheppard’s whim

A windblow to stun all the trees at once
that the nature shall call ‘the might’
to shut down forever the morning sun
and come forth with the age of bright

Of a poor sight of eyes that cannot bleed
and dried off they cannot weep
the age that our fathers had sang in time
in theyr dreams of pain and grief

Mother of ice
descend from the night
descent from the north
of goddess come forth
indistinguish light
all scattered aside
irreverent scream
the white, pure sublime

I’ve seen the moonlight trapped inside
your eyes that closed in peace
frightened by the touch of an awful sight
that freezed theyr dreams of bliss

A touch of a king that wears his sword
with the pride of a wolf that killed
the sheep guarded close by a thousand dogs
and chained to its sheppard’s whim

A windblow to stun all the trees at once
that the nature shall call ‘the might’
to shut down forever the morning sun
and come forth with the age of bright

Of a poor sight of eyes that cannot bleed
and dried off they cannot weep
the age that our fathers had sang in time
in theyr dreams of pain and grief

Indistinguish light
all scattered aside
irreverent scream
the white, pure sublime

Hyleon

fosnet surd de frunze
ce-n cadere rup
din tacerea
pur-a unui cuib de lup

nu e fiara nu e om
nu e viu dar nu-i nici mort
nu e fiara nu e om
pururi mandru hyleon

timpuri noi si vechi
se zbat sa vina iar
mituri, nasc himere
ce se-nchin-amar

nu-i om, nu-i nici zeu
nici lighioana nu-i
umbra, celui ce a fost
dar inca nu-i
stihuri, in tacere
nasc un pui de om
ce e, uns de-un vis,
de-o umbra, Hyleon

Dacian’s Prayer

When death did not exist, nor yet eternity,
Before the seed of life had first set living free,
When yesterday was nothing, and time had not begun,
And one included all things, and all was less than one,
When sun and moon and sky, the stars, the spinning earth
Were still part of the things that had not come to birth,
And You quite lonely stood… I ask myself with awe,
Who is this mighty God we bow ourselves before.

Ere yet the Gods existed already He was God
And out of endless water with fire the lightning shed;
He gave the Gods their reson, and joy to earth did bring,
He brought to man forgiveness, and set salvation’s spring
Lift up your hearts in worship, a song of praise enfreeing,
He is the death of dying, the primal birth of being.

To him I owe my eyes that I can see the dawn,
To him I owe my heart wherein is pity born;

Whene’er I hear the tempest, I hear him pass along
Midst multitude of voices raised in a holy song;
And yet of his great mercy I beg still one behest:
That I at last be taken to his eternal rest.

Be curses on the fellow who would my praise acclaim,
But blessings upon him who does my soul defame;
Believe no matter whom who slanders my renown,
Give power to the arm that lifts to strike me down;
Let him upon the earth above all others loom
Who steals away the stone that lies upon my tomb.

Hunted by humanity, let me my whole life fly
Until I feel from weeping my very eyes are dry;

Ashes And Flames

Gone are the nights of yore
hunting armed with our sorcerous lore
gone are the feasts of hall
since the fortress was rendered to fall
brought to his knees each man
to arise and defy gods again
soul in or weakened frames
still dreams boldly of ashes and flames
troughout the passing moons
we’re still faithful to forests and runes
longing to sleep we pray
sleep with fire and no more with clay

Gone are the nights of yore
hunting armed with our sorcerous lore
gone the feasts of hall
since the fortress was rendered to fall
brought to knees each man
to arise and defy gods again
in our weakened frames
soul dreams boldly of ashes and flames

through the passing moons
we’re still faithful to forests and runes
for sleep we pray
sleep with fire and no more with clay

Arab Hate

Fight away
the night shall embrace once again all the faith
do rise
the sword into heavens and praise for the fate

and steel shall arise for to cheersish the sun
the moon and the earth and divine, the quaran
we’ll sail to the north for to steal the pure cold
and then we shall drink from the christian blood

shall we arise in the depth of night
to end all the tears in blood
heavens shall wait for our men to fight
their ways to the field of gods
shall we prepare for the last awake
before the great ascend
but first we shall spit the enemies
with the curse of the arab hate