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!
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