Downfall Of Nur
Umbras de Barbagia
1. I - Intro
2. II - The Golden Age
Torn by sacred trees
placed on the white stone
by the oldest man of her people
here is were we come to pray
the smell of blood and smoke
it spreads through the forest
a thousand horns sounds
in salute to the new king.
In the eyes of the druid,
a sacred fire burns eternally.
He can see inside the woods,
the Golden Age over this land.
For over a thousand years
the Gods had protected us
our Mother gave animals
with forests and sacred rivers.
Ancestral towers beyond the forest,
the pillars of (the) Universe
the Pantheon of the oldest Gods
which now rest in their golden thrones.
Threatened by the arrival of the invader
more than one thousand sons of Nur gave their lives
to defend the great sacred temples
that someday will arise in the light of the Gods.
3. III - The Downfall of Nur
From their ancient thrones
the oldest Gods are dying,
watching their empire in ruins.
The sacred bones burn in rivers of dust.
Buried in the roots of archaic stones
they are prisoners of time.
Threats in the west beyond the mountain,
the black sunrising.
Black clouds announce the storm,
the acceptance of another God,
the surrender of the biggest hospiton
the extinction of the blazing flame.
Blood runs from the edge of a wounded land
enshrouding all the great monoliths
and throwing them into the dust of Earth.
The downfall of Nur has reached end.
4. IV - Ashes
Towering above the underground rivers
the archaic fountain,
the place of cult to water,
now rest under the rotten trees.
Cleansing the roots of the Earth
the veins of the oldest goodness,
Mother of Nature and Life
radiating lines of energy towards the Universe.
Ancestral warnings,
the black Sun over the dawn
hidden behind the fields of ferns
the sacred womb.
Enslaved by the ancient lineage
dead in time.
Hidden by modern society
ashes is all that remains.
5. V - Umbras de Barbagia
Bleak, exiled and forgotten
ejected from the existence
I refuse to believe all these beliefs
I reject all these ideologies.
Erased and replaced by the invaders,
forgotten, his spirit rests below these stones.
Abused more than once in the name of progress,
I can feel you cry, dear Motherland.
Dear Barbagia, your shadows are still alive
in every stone and tree of yours
golden memories of archaic ages,
golden memories of honour and glory.
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