Journey Through the Cold Moors of Svarttjern - Carpathian Forest

Ahh, Dance through the cold shadows of Pan

as tears fall from heaven…

once I had hold the rarest rose,

But, that is now forgotten with time…

Among the tree’s I wandered,

To feel the embrace of etemal eclipse

as my candle bums out,

-And we must make the myths…

Dark is the moon at harvest,

the nightly mist approaches

through the forlorned marshes,

-Then darkness has now been achieved…

«Crush your earthly virtnes,

As I stumbled through snow and frost

my feeble heart is longing for the wood,

where all dark cast a shadow…»

It’s pale morrow landscape,

Has now risen through the bleak night

over the moors and mountains,

Flies the hunting ravens…, searching,

Dance through the cold shadows of Pan,

As tears fall from heaven,

Then, once I had hold the rarest rose…

Frozen is my pagan heart,

And once again the dawn is here

hear the sound of silence,

In these trees…

Are my gallows…