Kroda Fünf Jahre Kulturkampf Falcon Among the Cliffs By Blood… By the Hot Blood – To bewitch the Flames Of Fire… Kroda exalt the sparkles of Pyre Towards Celestial Heights, Where they dwell at that moment, Transfigured into Falcon… In flight above the Crags They reached the Firmament Vaults – And by the fading ashes They die among the cliffs… Only the yell of Falcon Lost among the Cliffs… And rustle of His Wings Calmed down among that Cliffs… Seid Runar Flammer Flames dancing, licking ashes… Dancing, dancing, dancing… Runes of the fiery tongues Weaving, weaving, weaving… Runes circling above embers Circling, circling, circling… Sparkles to the ground by Falcons Beating, beating, beating… Flammer Runar I En SEID Moaning-Ensorcer… Embers of the Fire murmur Enflamed by Winds are… Ghosts of Birds …Soil is covered by Ashes – Corpses of Dead Falcons, Their feather bloodstained… Above embers – Sparkles circling like Ghosts. By Blood they bewitch the Flame… By the Hot Blood… Ghosts of Birds are soar high With tongues of Fire… Cry to Me, River... (Kampf version 2008) Cry To Me, River, Tell me about the days of ancient times, About what thou saw long time ago- Tell by the whispering of thy drops Bring by the waves to Nothingness Resounds of battles where one raised his sword Against his brother In murmur of tide voices are heard: “Betrayal!” Who dishonored his Ancestors names? Who destroyed our Ancient Faith? Who gave the Slavonic Land Into enemies’ clutch? “volodymir!” “Miserable descendant of the Great Knjaz, worthless son of Svjatoslav,- fratricide, apostate of Faith, Named “saint” for his betrayal!” Who built the churches Upon our Sacral Ground?- That herd trembled of fear, When Knjaz Svjatoslav nailed His shield To the Constantinopolis gates! Wind from the Mountains (Spring is Coming) (Kampf version 2008) The first furious thunder peals Are piercing the fresh air - Such as always it was, in the spring on Our Land Thunderstorms are washing the last snow away… The wardrums of Spring are beating - This rataplan sounds with rains and thunders. That drums are messengers of the first grass, Cold mists are coming with them side by side. On the rivers, the mud blurred ice melting down, It is carried away with a streams - No reason to resist - Spring is coming; Inevitable is ices death it s being broken and crushed On the trees branches somewhere there are Blackening leaves that left from the autumn… Nothing will remain - Spring will sweep all away With hailstorms. And burn all decrepit. It s smoke shalt exalt to the height, Where blue skies are streaked with clouds: Wind rushing down from Carpathian mountains Shalt momentary tear the smoke in pieces… Wind from the mountains brings the Spring on, Sowing it’s snowdrops in steppes over Dnipro, For he’s still remember this sorrowful land That he chained in winter with frost. Wind brings the Spring to the Ukraine From Carpathian mountains to the glorious Don river! In summer it shalt blossom in Thcigiryn woods, And in autumn return back home… By rains... Where Brave Warriors Shalt Meet Again... (Kampf version 2008) Souls are drunk with Rage Hearts are filled with Hatred By the Werewolves Rapacious Pack By the Steel of Berserkers Sights At last their Spears are aimed forth Glittering are Valkyries Armours Squalling Vortex of Einherjers Hate Where is no Place for pity There where Cold Winds are singing Glory to Warriors that fell in Fight Glory to Those who gave Their Lives With no doubt in the name of Their Faith Where Snows are sweep high the Mounds To Those Who stepped against foes till the end To Those Whose braveness is unknown To any damned christian sheep Descendants of Gods stared in Death’s Eyes And held tight in a Hands their Swords Their Bodies are swallowed by Funeral Pyres And their Ashes by Rains washed away There where the Last Battle begin Where Ragnarok Storm roll With a loud yell ”Heil Wotan!” Winged Brother of Wolf shalt drink Mead of Our Wounds Where Black Sun ascend high Where is no Place for compassion Where the Halls of Swords and Shields are – Where Brave Warriors shalt meet again Descendants of Gods stared in Death’s Eyes And held tight in a Hands their Swords Their Bodies are swallowed by Funeral Pyres And their Ashes by Rains washed away There where the Last Battle begin Where Ragnarok Storm roll With a loud yell ”Heil Wotan!” Winged Brother of Wolf shalt drink Mead of Our Wounds Where Black Sun ascend high Where is no Place for compassion Where the Halls of Swords and Shields are – There Brave Warriors shalt meet again In Valhalla We Shalt Meet Again! Heil Odin! By the Hammer of Spirit and Identity of Blood... (Kampf version 2008) What is not like in Ancient times now – Why all is sorrowful and begrimed?.. Why the Ancestral Wisdom lost; Why the Blood Brotherhood forgotten is?.. Alas, all the Truth was gone, Truth was gone and the false arose!.. Clouds are gathered, covered the Sky, Ghastly impending over woods and fields… With the stellar eyes, from the Firmament Forefathers still gaze and wondering: Folk of Rus’ is in deathlike slumber, Sleeping they don’t see the cruel grief! Mounds and Cromlechs – devastate are; Cut down are Our Sacred Groves; Tales forgotten are, and the Runes are lost; Forbidden are Swords and Solar Signs… Dead Rivers are flowing like a tears And the Land is desolate like a scorched ground; All doors and windows in huts closed are – All the bolts and bars are locked up… Only in the Forge someone still hammering, Of the Blood Identity forging the Spiritsteel… Dawn is coming forth – Rus’ reawakes! Hammer of Spirit beating incessant… Identity of Blood shalt unite again Our Warriors with a Bonds of Oath; That’s why Forger didn’t sleep in evil night – With Thunders He sworn than Folk shalt arise!!! Poppyflowers are Blossoming (Part II) (Kampf version 2008) …At last in life the hordeman measured By head the steppe above the river… The horses nearer, faces are vile, And sabers crossed, sabers clashed, The sparkles got entangled with blood, Again, with scream manhunter pierced The Pridneprovie, in death fear… But steel raged and raged again, Sibilant blood hissed and froth hissed, The Cossack covered the valley With foes corpses by all his might, By skill of Sich and war campaign On glorious Don – brothers taught him fight. Yet Cossack kills hordemen in riverford, Fear starts to embrace hordemen: - “This is shaitan! Not a Cossack!” – But Cossack grins in long mustache: - “I’m not at first kicks ass of shaitans! Now you’ll realize who’s the Cossack, That known among the folk as Mak” – And again, the steel in close combat Clashing above the raging water, The river floods subhumans dead – No strength, no power can’t broke Cossack. But behold the black betrayal coming: Dreg, rabble sneaked up from behind, He’s assassin with reptile soul, He’s all for sale, just give a coin. On quite the traitor raised his weapon, Gunshot pealed wide above the river And Cossack fell on horse’s back. - “It’s end of Cossack! Mak is dead!” - The hordemen rushed straight to him But Cossack severely looked at them: - “No, cutthroats, I am not dead, For I shall bloom among my folk!” – Cutthroats raising up their weapons: - “The blossom of your life had left you! Now, Cossack, how we shall do: To poppy seeds by sabers cut you!..” – The hordemen shredded, cut the warrior, His white body fell onto the ground, And like a seeds it had grew up, At summer it blossomed with poppy red… The hordemen and a jewlike traitor Are long forgotten by my land’s folk, For morbid harvest of their traice Was overgrown by wild dead weeds. And poppyflowers are still blossoming, - For ages they bloom in wide expanse, In plait of girl and in the vast field! And poppyflowers are blossoming!