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Now Night Her Course Began
Sephiroth Lyrics


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Daniel Branescu

Beyond the foremost breath of Life
Beyond the reminiscence of Memory
Beyond the light of day and dawn of Time
From aeons so distant, not even the Old Gods can remember them
Among the stone orbs of the newborn worlds
And nascent fires of countless suns

Lies the Night itself, It that engulfs all
The ancient essence to whom even Time,
He who whittles even highest mounts to dust
Who births and ends even the strongest empires
Who fills the tomes of history with an infinity of pages,
Is nothing but a frail, passing shadow

Waits Night, with unending patience and hunger
Amongst the high heavens and distant worlds
For Time to write down His last book of Life
For stars to grow weary, dim, and cold 
For worlds to fall to dust, ash, and bone
For Men and Memory to take the final breath

Sings Night, to chant her unheard songs
Sings Night, to drown the voice of  Men
Sings Night, to mourn the death of Time
Sings Night, to conquer Heaven's throne.



Кай

Сквозь тяжёлые латы и шлем,
не вижу рассвета, кроме разбитых стен.
Пожелаю удачи я всем,
кто рисовал на стенах гобелен.
Мой конь уж уставший,
много войн поведавший.
Сбиваясь с пути, он шагает,
спотыкается, но не падает.
Я не видел родного дома,
уже несколько лет.
Лишь одна дорога знакома,
Храм, которого нет.
Смерти я слышу призывный
«Привет»
Моё имя «Бессмертный»,
Мне двадцать пять лет.

Здравый рассудок, я давно потерял,
Я воин, в ином мире застрял.
Здесь нету цветов, здесь всё в пыли
Здесь, деревья когда-то росли.
Чистый воздух наполнял груди,
Теперь, ходят скованные люди.
Солнце не видно, его закрыла тьма,
Мир погубила, смерти рука.
Я - рыцарь, с великой дороги,
Мой меч устал, устали и ноги.

Тамплиеры лежат на земле, убиты,
их войска, в крах разбиты.
Флотилия на дне морском,
лежит с пробитым дном.
Чёрные вороны, кружат над землёй,
наблюдают с высока, за погасшей войной.

Окровавленные войной,
Оружие воткнуто в землю.
Только чёрные вороны порой,
Кружат над колыбелью.
Величайшие цари,
Сложили мечи.

Недавно по полю,
Промчалась война.
Недавно над колыбелью,
Прогремела гроза.
Рыцари ринулись,
на злого врага.
Мечи и щиты воедино скрестились,
И над землёю повисла мгла.

Война началась,не спонтанно,
Война пришла, постепенно.
Из-за грязных монет,
И места на троне.
Людской жадности предела нет,
Все подвластны золотой короне.



《::SCVNTHORPE::》

On the Eve of the creator, chilled winds slither across the black sands leading into foreboding dark oceans. Peaking out between the glossy, mildly chopping waves stand glistening remnants of the very earliest henge our ancestors prayed in.

Our beliefs, our very song of being and doing remained playful even as the continentals fell into serfdom, into the demands of petty men who sought to be venerated.

Looking in, the landscape is dotted with our barrows, surrounded in turn by round thatched huts looming up from the fields of wavy flourite-esque grass like sylvan pustules, bellowing thin wisps of smoke.

And breaking out from a rising, rippling curtain of pine are the various white peaks, the chief among these bearing the sanctum of the black stone.

The land will seem blighted, foreboding according to all they have told you. That the Devil, the old god, the very sun walks the land as a great dragon. That is correct. But it is they who have told you, from birth.
Those chills you feel? An awakening.

Welcome home, son. Welcome home.



All comments from YouTube:

Daisy Wanderlust

one of the best dark ambient tracks ever made.

BERSERKER

I can not agree more
Absolutely magical this song
Ulf soderberg is a Monster Composer

Daniel Branescu

Beyond the foremost breath of Life
Beyond the reminiscence of Memory
Beyond the light of day and dawn of Time
From aeons so distant, not even the Old Gods can remember them
Among the stone orbs of the newborn worlds
And nascent fires of countless suns

Lies the Night itself, It that engulfs all
The ancient essence to whom even Time,
He who whittles even highest mounts to dust
Who births and ends even the strongest empires
Who fills the tomes of history with an infinity of pages,
Is nothing but a frail, passing shadow

Waits Night, with unending patience and hunger
Amongst the high heavens and distant worlds
For Time to write down His last book of Life
For stars to grow weary, dim, and cold 
For worlds to fall to dust, ash, and bone
For Men and Memory to take the final breath

Sings Night, to chant her unheard songs
Sings Night, to drown the voice of  Men
Sings Night, to mourn the death of Time
Sings Night, to conquer Heaven's throne.

Russ Robbins

@DM P No. Milton wrote Paradise Lost, the poem from which the title of this track was taken.

DM P

@Russ Robbins why he wrote it???

Russ Robbins

@The Needle John Milton might take issue with that.

The Needle

No better poem for this. Fantastic.

Carlos André Thomaz Pinheiro

Beautiful! You are indeed a great poet!

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Azaram 813

This sounds like something more ancient than anything on this planet and far more advanced than we could even imagine

Adam Holm

I feel like I've discovered a wealth of advanced technology left by an ancient people and through their legacy I can feel their worldview. Great ambience.

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