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En forskremt skikkelse i skyggen
Fillete og fattig, men vakker og rik
Fælen og forvridd, men ingen stakkar
Hun gjemmer seg så godt hun kan

Hun er forhatt av de flexstem, men elsket av de aller beste
Hun er forhatt av de flexstem, men elsket av de aller beste
Hun er forhatt av de flexstem, men elsket av de aller beste

1. Blóðstokkinn 01:10
2. Jóln 05:46
3. Alfadanz 09:18
4. Hit helga Tré 06:47
5. Æra 03:54
6. Heiðr 02:57
7. Valgaldr 07:57
8. Galgviðr 07:13

Thus it is related in Voluspaoud blows Heimdall, his horn aloft.
Odin speaks with Mim's head.
The ash Yggdrasil shakes as it stands,
The ancient tree groansnd the giant gets free.
What is it with the Aesir?
What is it with the Elves?
All giantland resounds.
The Aesir are in council

The Fire in the Sky is Extinguished
Blue Waters no Longer Cry
The Dancing of Trees Has Stopped
The Stream of Freshness from Cold Winds
Exists no Longer
The Rain Has Stopped to Drip
From the Sky
Still Dripping Exists

The fire in the sky is extinguished, blue waters no longer cry
The dancing of trees has stopped, the stream of freshness from cold winds
Exists no longer...
The rain has stopped to drip from the sky
Still dripping exists from the veins of a nearly dead boy

Once there was hatred, once there was cold
Now there is only a dark stone tomb

The fire in the sky is extinguished
Blue waters no longer cry
The dancing of trees has stopped
The stream of freshness from cold winds
Exists no longer
The rain has stopped to drip
From the sky
Still dripping exists

Voices from the spirit world can be heard through the dark
winternights, the heartbeats of the spirit. It is the holy twelve
days of Yule. Dark shapes can be seen in the sky; riders of
death. They suddenly charge down from the clouds in wonderful
wilderness; kings and chieftains, thieves and murderers - all in
the same phalanx, drifting mysteriously through the air on spirit
horses, arriving when least expected. Black shields, furs from
bear and wolf, shining blades, open wounds and ropes still tied

Beholding The Daughters Of The Firmament
Musikk og tekst skrevet Januar 1993 a.y.p.s.

I wonder how winter will be
With a spring that I shall never see
I wonder how night will be
With a day that I shall never see

Seidmannen klatrer opp i tre finner der jords gamle smerte,
Kutter den ned i høstens fred, med saks skjærer ut dets hjerte.

Eikens løv mot bakken faller, seidmannen åndene kaller!
Eikens løv mot jorden faller, seidmannen tryllevers traller!

Løken legges i lintøy ned, hellige eiketreånden.
Seidmannen sikrer verdens fred, fruktbarhet, solmakt i hånden!

Black Spell Of Destruction

Hear my Sword
...in the Making
Of my Spell
Literally
Damkuna, Iftraga
Sheb Nigurepur, Dafast

La pilen vandre fra gud til gud,
i hele den hvide verden.
La pilen sendes fra hus til hus,
til hele vår åsaslekt.

Til hvert eneste barn av gudeætt.
Til hver eneste åsamann.
Økstid er her, og piltid.

Tears from the eyes so cold,
tears from the eyes, in the grass so green.
As I lie here, the burden is being lifted
once and for all, once and for all.
Beware of the light,
it may take you away, to where no evil dwells.
It will take you away, for all eternity.
Night is so beautiful

Drums of war sound. Warriors are gathered to fight on the Wнgriрr plain. Charging men, wolves, ravens and gods, worms and beasts of darkness; the plain is lit with fire. Blood is flowing, bits of flesh, severed limbs, smashed skulls and bodies lie strewn across the plain. Screams cut the air, screams of anger and pain, the sound of metal blades and armour clashing, clubs smashing bodies. Then, for a brief moment, everything stops. It is as if the universe holds its breath. Wuotan has fallen on the Wнgriрr plain; swallowed by Fanjariho. For a moment the time stands still. For Wuotan; Hail and Joy!

Det Som En Gang Var

Imellom buskene vi stirret
På de som minnet om andre tider
Og fortalte at håpet var borte
For alltid...
Vi hørte alvesang og vann
Som sildret

Norwegian:
Imellom buskene vi stirret
På de som minnet om andre tider
Og fortalte at håpet var borte
For alltid...
Vi hørte alvesang og vann
Som sildret
Det som en gang var er nu borte

Сквозь лес мы вглядывались
На то, что напоминало о других временах
И повествовало о надежде
Исчезнувшей
Навечно
Мы слушали песнь эльфов
И журчание воды
То, что было однажды – не существует больше.

This is a never before released Burzum track, originally made for the ForeBears movie (available from ancestralcult.com) -- but we never used it. You can use this music as you please privately, but the track is mine, so if you by any chance want to use it commercially you need a permission from me to do so.

When night falls she cloaks the world in impenetrable darkness
A chill rises from the soil and contaminates the air
Suddenly... Life has new meaning

When night falls she cloaks the world in impenetrable darkness
A chill rises from the soil and contaminates the air
When night falls she cloaks the world in impenetrable darkness
A chill rises from the soil and contaminates the air

When night falls
she cloaks the world
in impenetrable darkness.
A chill rises
from the soil
and contaminates the air
suddenly...
life has new meaning.

The head is a head of a serpent from its nostrils mucus trickles...
The ears are those of a basilisk, his horns are twisted into three curls

Ea, lord of the depths

The body is a sun fish, full of stars, the base of his feet are claws
His name is Sassu Wunnu a sea monster, a form of Ea

The head is a head of a serpent from its nostrils mucus trickles...
The ears are those of a basilisk, his horns are twisted into three curls

Ea, lord of the depths

The body is a sun fish, full of stars, the base of his feet are claws
His name is Sassu Wunnu a sea monster, a form of Ea

I en mørk skog med kalde tjern
Et sted hvor Herren av verdens ild ikke rekker
I det mørkeste i den store av natten - av tid
Og de samlet seg, og blev dødens hus
Barn av tidens krefter
Bran av den mektiges sønner
Vi står i en sirkel av svart

www.burzum.org/rus
Enhver til Sitt

Jeg følger etter hesten, inn i skogen.
Blødende; våt nedentil av eget blod.
Føttene føles stadig tyngre;
en bankende smerte i låret.

I wonder how winter will be with a spring that I shall never see
I wonder how night will be with a day that I shall never see
I wonder how life will be with a light I shall never see
I wonder how life will be with a pain that lasts eternally

In every night there's a different black, in every night I wish that I was back
To the time when I rode through the forests of old
In every winter there's a different cold, in every winter I feel so old

En aapning i skogen
Hvor solen skinner
Hindret av trerne fanges vi
I denne guds appning

Det brenner det svir
Nar lyset slikker vaart kjott
Opp mot skyene en roeyk

Drifting
In the Air
Above a Cold Lake
Is a Soul
From an Early
Better Age
Grasping for
A Mystic Thought

Drifting in the Air above a Cold Lake is a Soul from an Early
Better Age, grasping for a Mystic Thought
In Vain... but Who's to Know
Further on Lies Eternal Search
For Theories to Lift the Gate
Only Locks Are Made Stronger
And More Keys Lost as Logic Fades
In the Pool of Dreams the Water Darkens

Dreams have swept me away.
Into a long forgotten realm.
Down into the depths of the Earth.
Into a hidden cavern.

Into the world below.
I walk into the forgotten past.
« Do not turn around ! »

Alone in the night, Fijo is crying; she has been left by her
husband who had to leave to fight the darkness of matter.
Thoughts of what once was flow through her mind; their play in
the green grass and under colourful trees, wonderful fields of
flowers, fresh fruits and berries, and beautiful music from the
elven choirs. Running waters make them dream, lakes where they
bathed, riverfalls and marvelous clouds in the sky. They were
happy, they had their Golden Age. Now, all she has left are her

Sat þar á haugi
ok sló hörpu
gýgjar hirðir,
glaðr Eggþér;
gól of hánum
í galgviði
fagrrauðr hani,
sá er Fjalarr heitir.

Med døende sol og måne
starter ferd til skyggenes hav.
Bjørnen vil bålferd bivåne.
Liket legges i steintung grav.

Bakom slør høres jordens gråt;
sommerens lys som forsvinner,
eikeånden legges i båt,

Золотой Век
Golden Age

Тут славный приходит
Хлодюн потомок,
со змеем идет
биться сын Одина,
в гневе разит

En pat er at segja fra Hermodi at hann reid niu naetr dokkva dala ok
djupa sva at hann sa ekki fyrr en hann kom til arinnar Gjallar ok reid
a Gjallar bruna. Hon er pokd lysigulli. Modgudr er nenfd maer su er gaetir
bruarinna. Hon spurdi hann at nafni eda aett ok sagdi at hinn fyrra dag ridu
um bruna fimm fylki drauda manna,
"en eigi dyrn bruin minnr undir einum per ok eigi hefir pu lit daudra manna.
Hvi ridr pu her a Helveg?"
'Hann svarar at "ek skal rida til Helja at leita Baldrs. Eda hvart hefir pu

Gjennom tåkete daler
Mellom dystre fjell
Under grå skyer
Mitt i svarte natt
På en stolt hest
Ifort svarte kler
Sterke våpen i hånd
Uendelig med døde trer

Jeg Faller

Høyt deroppe står jeg i tiden;
i den grønne, vakre og varme,
sterke trekronen, i hvite skyer,
omgitt av de vakre og vennlige få.

Jeg faller.

Når snøen smelter gråter vi;
Vinteren har blitt beseiret.
Eikeånden vil bli satt fri,
Sommeråndene har feiret.
Når snøen smelter gråter vi;
Vinteren har blitt beseiret.
Eikeånden vil bli satt fri,
Sommeråndene har feiret.

My eyes are shut I cannot see
Though clear is thy despair
I drift away - far away
From places of which you seek

Though I seek thy hell
You close the gate before me
Your life is right, and I'm to

My eyes are shut I cannot see
though clear is thy despair
I drift away - far away
from places of which you seek

Though I seek thy hell
you close the gate before me
Your life is right, and I'm to

While we may believe
our world - our reality
to be that is - is but one
manifestation of the essence

Other planes lie beyond the reach
of normal sense and common roads
But they are no less real

Atmosphere track from the "ForeBears" movie played with a picture of Ängsälvor ('Meadow Elves") by Nils Blommér (1850) in the background. You can use this music as you please privately, but the track is mine, so if you by any chance want to use it commercially you need a permission from me to do so.

This track is not to be found on the upcoming album. It was made for the "ForeBears" film only.

Første vårens søndagsmorgen
kan vi igjen se den skare.
Er endelig slutt på sorgen,
over åker løper hare.

På det høyeste fjell i øst
kan du se solen den røde.
Du kan se, og nyte den trøst,

I Immaterialize
And Slowly Drift
Into the Unknown
With the Cold Winds with Soul
The Wintery Plains Lie Untouched
I Ride on My Elements
Towards the Stars Unseen
A Quest

I immaterialize
And slowly drift
Into the unknown
With the cold winds with soul
The wintery plains lie untouched
I ride on my elements
Towards the stars unseen
A quest

Tears from the eyes so cold, tears from the eyes, in the grass so green.
As I lie here, the burden is being lifted once and for all, once and for all.
Beware of the light, it may take you away, to where no evil dwells.
It will take you away, for all eternity.
Night is so beautiful (we need her as much as we need Day).

Ingen stillhet her ute - en drøm
Her hvor månen rår - en drøm
Jeg hater denne skog
hvor ingen fare truer
Ingen ulv
ingen bjørn
intet troll
puster

En ukjent stemme kalte
Fra tårnet hvor ingen bodde
Fra bortenfor skogen
Hvor intet levde
Et rop i drømmen så skjønt
Som stemmen til dronningen av natten
Vi våknet og så månen
Delvis dekket av dystre skyer

Голос из башни



Неизвестный голос звал
Из башни, в которой никто не обитает
Той, что за лесом
В котором ничто не живет

Kan vingene av vindene
forstå din stemme av
undring
For vi er en sirkel
av ni kongeriker
Vi bryter med ilden av liv
og blir større
av hemmelig visdom

Танец с мечами

Час зимы настал,
когда умрут волк и медведь;
сорви мех, маску,
растопчи их, скажи зиме, прощай!

Дух зимы, ты умрёшь!

I remember the shining sanguine sun
The frozen forests and fallen leaves
And the hollow hill under the sky

I remember the complex cold caverns
The long tranquil tunnels
And the large underground lakes

Самая искренняя музыка рождается, когда музыкант уже созрел как личность и ему нет нужды кому-то что-то доказывать. Он опирается только на свое мироощущение и передает его посредством музыки. И смотришь потом на этот мир чужими глазами, думая, что сам никогда и не взглянул бы на него с этой стороны. Бурзум продолжает гнуть свою линию и писать очень интересную и противоречивую музыку.

Сразу скажу, что предыдущие работы Викернеса после освобождения как-то прошли меня стороной, ничуть не впечатлив, но из интереса решил все-таки оценить новый альбом. Люблю я эмбиэнт и все ищу в нем достойные релизы. Не так часто попадаются, как хотелось, но перед нами тот самый редкий случай. Нигилизм во плоти - вот как охарактеризую я "The Ways Of Yore". Все гениальное просто, и Варг это очень хорошо знает, не загружая наши уши чем-то заумным и трудновоспринимаемым. Размеренность и однообразие альбома можно приводить в пример, как должна звучать простая музыка, оставаясь при этом загадочной, интригующей. В чем нет равных Викернесу, так это в создании неповторимой атмосферы. Бывают самородки, играют музыку в схожем с этим альбомом ключе, но все же такую выдающуюся личность не переплюнешь. А вот научиться можно многому. Правда, раз он все же перестарался - имеется в виду песня "Heill Odinn", являющая собой монотонную мантру, повторяющуюся не один десяток раз. Дальше - лучше.

С каждой композицией атмосферность набирает обороты и ждешь кульминации. Завораживающе, волшебно слушается это все. В каких-то галлюцинногенных снах придумана эта космическая музыка, она явно далека от мирской суеты и не обременена обыденностью, поглотившей миллионы музыкантов, пытающихся изобрести велосипед, а по сути играя заезженные кем-то ранее пластинки. Размеренный темп меняется лишь в деталях в течение альбома. В первой половине немалой составляющей является Dungeon Synth, но постепенно он идет на убыль, уступая место эмбиэнту. Не хочется никуда спешить, наоборот, приходят в голову мысли о вечном.

Варг повзрослел, стал мудрее, спокойнее. Законченность, концептуальность в этой задумке музыканта близка к идеальной как никогда прежде. В музыкальном плане. В текстах же он, как и ранее, пытается охватить как можно больше тем, создав задел в разнообразии за счет лирики. В обложке и названии - Пути древности - скрыт некий сакральный смысл. Старик держит на руках умирающую деву, при этом ничуть не беспокоясь, словно зная, что это - начало пути. А заключительная композиция, "To Hel And Back Again", это только подтверждает. Ад кажется пустым и замерзшим. Не найдя там ничего, старик вернулся обратно.

On the slope of a naked rock somewhere in Skapinawjo - the isles of Skapis - a blonde, fur-clad man immortalises his memory of Mannus, the oldest Ing. A large manlike shape is engraved in the rock; bloodred in colour, with a large phallus. His hands are stretching toward the sky. Mannus, the son of Tuisto, made sure his tribe survived the cold north together with his sons; Inguz, Herminuz and Istwo. Tuisto's heart is warmed by the sight of his descendants; he knows the gods are not forgotten. Then - he reasons - there is hope after all, for the coming generations.

Kom død, kjære død;
gi meg løsning på alle gåter;
gi meg nøkkel og tryllestav,
knyt opp verdens knuter.

Hvorfor i døden, min venn, og der alene?
Hvorfor i glemselens elv du stuper?
Hvorfor i mørket, min venn, og der alene,

Þá kná Váli
vígbönd snúa,
heldr váru harðgör
höft ór þörmum.

Haft sá hon liggja
und Hveralundi,
lægjarns líki

En forskremt skikkelse i skyggen,
fillete og fattig, men vakker og rik,
fælen og forvridd, men ingen stakkar:
hun gjemmer seg så godt hun kan.

Hun er forhatt av de fleste,
men elsket av de aller beste.

This is War
I Lie Wounded on Wintery Ground
With Hundred of Corpses around
Many Wounded Crawl Helplessly around
On the Blood Red Snowy Ground
War
Cries of the (ha, ha) Suffering Sound
Cries for Help to All Their Dear Moms

Аеее
Хахааа
Аееее
Не сиди на камне, я имею ввиду жопой
Не поленись до скамейки дотопать
Это оч вредно для твоей простаты
Может навсегда перестать стоять
А вот в теплой тачке