Nothing will be as before We can now see it With fascination and horror The city of the ancient spirit
An infamous architecture A Cyclopean monument A non-Euclidean structure Looks to us like an unspeakable giant We are cursed We are cursed
Study each sculpture on these cold walls We understand your past existence Your prosperity between these icefalls Your greatness and quintessence
You created slaves, the shoggoths, powerful and abject But slaves wanted to become masters, and of your fall they were the architect
Shapeless beings, screaming like birds of Poe Now only masters of the snow Resistant to the freezing cold of Antarctica They haunt the dark Babylonia
L’horreur liée à nos découvertes ne nous arrêta pas dans notre quête de savoir. Pourtant nous avions compris que ces connaissances pouvaient amener l’Homme à sa perte, à sa chute. Nous avançons encore et encore au sein de cette innommable cité cyclopéenne. Les choses très anciennes avaient succombées au froid du désert blanc, mais pas leur création. Abomination informe mais polymorphe, nous entendons son cri aigu et détestable se rapprocher, comme un avertissement, présageant notre rencontre imminente et inévitable.
The creature is in front of me, oozing and spongy Countless eyes searching in the dark filthy ancestral horror Dragging his vile body, like in a slow agony, it comes to us, leaving behind its sticky mark of our souls the infamous killer
Traversant ce dédale de couloirs impies, nous fuyons cette ineffable vision. Nous arrivons enfin à échapper à la détestable créature, nos corps saufs, mais nos âmes meurtries
From our plane, we can see one last time the cursed city Danforth’s crazy howls surround me, one last vision forever taking his sanity
Today I ask the world not to come back to this place of melancholia For our salvation, no expedition should return to Antarctica Never!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
