Asgaard
Ad Sidera, Ad Infinitum
Sadness of Stony Angel
The Way of The Secret Rapture
Mon Ange
Love... blood... & eternity
I've brought a flower for You... for Us
...about Love
Let me die...
Sadness of Stony Angel
Utwór instrumentalny
The Way of The Secret Rapture
The blackness of the Night profund
dyed with o colour of flower
The flowers of love, desire and fulfillment...
Why do they call my felling a sin?!
Why do they call my sin infernal love ?!
Love... another empty word,
the brat of human mind.
Those cannot love whose bodies
are torn by jealous looks of slaves.
The streams of blasphemous blood head towards divine eternity;
Pitful howl of wolves in the silent Night...
This is a name of love
The blasphemous eternal beauty,
My lonesome song,
The essence of my life,
The passionate truth sprinkled with cursed blood, my blood
The blood of Fallen Angel.
Mon Ange
Somewhere... in time and out of time
In love to hatred, in hatred to love
I was born
And I hung between heaven and earth,
beetwen beauty and banality,
beetwen enchantment and a culmination of life.
My sisters - stars - endow heaven with beauty
twinkling seducively with their horrified eyes;
Yet they can't love so much & hate that much
With one breath of solitary lust
This one breath obscures their gleam
so much unstable...
And I rise over the peaks
to extoll your beauty of virigin
which with its grandeur
sadden the prodigious angels...
I hate all that lasts only a while.
love...
life...
the shine of wretched stars.
In a downpour of love at Your gate
of passion I stand.
You're my heart!!! A pearl in the
Universe of stone...
Love me forever !!!
Every single moment I dream about
our extasy...
In the time...
and out of time...
In the time...
and out of time...
Love... Blood... & Eternity
Passion... some secret force
a scream or horro like a wild flower
in a hoodwinked Devil's hand...
The breath of wind chasing o being of
original love, of original faith
in the immortality of human soul and its infiteness.
Passion... the last proof of the truth
in the hand of an imprisoned man.
Just only a while...
the last breath...
I've heard!
The heavently moan groans with the echo of delighted hearts,
the nocturnal suffering tornished with disappointed madmans blood
Then there was only silence...
...and sadness of the stony faith pierced with the TREASON dagger
and only the time did stop for a while, a little stupefied and dumbly
ravished
blew
another
candle...
I've brought a flower for You... for Us
The memory bore a tear; the stars have faded,
the dreams got quiet...
only the faith in eternity full of passion,
unmufled flickered a little with a pale,
shivering flame...
A small part of You I passes in me,
a bit of Your dreams, which You
didn't happen to tell me about,
a bit of a felling that this damn time
has taken away from Us...
Remember me...
Remember painlessly
full of extasy and sweetness of those moments,
culmination of time which has passed...
We are so far away from each other,
parted by the void between two worlds,
chated by time...
I depart...
I will lie beside You...
... about Love
Part I - The Halfshade's birth
Proud...
yet so easy
Crowned with a thorn of his lust
A slave of Beauty...
Like an autumn rain
which cries the silver tears
and in the God's eye
plays the traitor,
He clads the joy in sorrow,
with a colour of Night paints the dreams
to become free...
to touch the heart,
that gave him life...
Yet the lust has declined
Damned be his name
Only the tears have remained,
The pieces of ancient splendour
dipped in the torment of passion...
His sun will never rise again.
Shining with a gleam of fulfillment
...the ray of Love.
Part II - Darkness
Filfillment smeared with blood...
a dagger in Your hand;
The flower of Love has died
burning with admiration for Beauty,
which has never been seen...
he didn't understand...
he did hate...
Let Me Die...
Humming elegiac nocturne
he strode throught life poisoned with lies
and he picked flowers, which have never
been offered to anybody...
Then he kissed their petals calling them
dreams,
admiring their diversity.
He always liked the wilted ones,
the ones he often found on graves.
He felt, they had more beauty then the fresh ones,
untouched by the claw of passing time
the real forms of excellence - he felt, that the
other ones have something more to say...
When he took a flower to his hand
all seemed strangely concetrated, scared us
by eerie expectation of Something...
This Something was everywhere, in each element
of his disorted world, in his tragism;
It observed us from each precipice of mind,
it shone with a glitter of malicious stars
suspended on the verge of reality and imagination.
Each of these flowers randez-vous was his love
and each of his loves was something entirely new,
something elusive - as he said.
Because you cannot touch Beauty without
understanding it, without being convinced
that it is valuable.
The years elapsed...And he still
kissed these flowers sneering at life,
which he deprived of charm...
And finally he stole all the colours...
And even the sun stopped shining,
as there was nobody to shine for...
Then he cried... putting his head between his knees.
And his tear crossed the sky...
and bore unfaith.
Today nobody remembers him,
today they are the New...
Humming this mournful nocturne
striding throught life poisoned with lies
and pick his flowers...
It is a sacrifice for Eternity,
culmination of life...
victory
The memories watered with divine tears.
Now, may I leave ?!
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