Creator of the red light Who dividest the times by certain seasons, When the sun vanishes, Fearful chaos comes again. Restore the light to thy faithful people! Though thou hast studded Heaven’s floor with stars, And inlaid it With the bright lamp of the moon, Yet thou dost teach us Also to strike light out of flints, And to fan it into life Out of the stone-born spark. Thou art the true light of the eyes, And the light of the senses!
When the blood will write the song With words and runes You will die! Or you will be born.
Again! It’s the king of the endless space, Who dresses his folk with golden drapes Fool and wise who fought against, And your sadness makes them younger again. I’m the light of alchemy I’m the brightness of the rhapsody Good and evil were unborn You will sing until the end of the world! Brothers of this monastery Once in every sixty years In the name of trinity You must-not betray the secrets of stones!
This my invocation Holy lord The iron of perfection
Again! When the black raven turns to white It is called “virgin’s milk” But the number of such names Is much larger than the stars of the night. In the sky the thunder came All the melodies aflame It’s the unction from the maid Through the ages to the fountain of light.
This my invocation Holy lord The iron of perfection
Die! Or you will be born. Or you die! Or you’ll be bornTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
