Carved in Stone все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Sacht, mein Freund, schlieЯ Deine Lippen
atme ruhig und bleibe still,
weil das Blut aus Deinen Wunden
sonst zu reichlich flieЯen will;
sei getrost, dem braven Rosse,
das Dich trug, gelang die Flucht
und der Feind wird Dich nicht finden
gleich, wie lange er auch sucht.

As the rain keeps falling,
I listen to the voices of the wind
As I lay down my sword
and I saddle my horse;
As the rain keeps falling,
I’m riding through the mountains, through the woods
and I stop and I stare
at the beauty around.

Dort, wo die Nebel nie verweh’n,
wo nie das Licht sich zeigt,
dort steht seit ewig langer Zeit
ein Fels im Moor und schweigt.
Die Unken singen dort ihr Lied
in jeder neuen Nacht,
als wьssten sie, was einst hier war
und was dies Unheil bracht.

So schwarz weint keine Nacht am schwarzen Gitter,
wie in dem schwarzen Schacht das blinde Pferd.
Ihm ist, als ob die Wiese, die es bitter
in jedem Heuhalm schmeckt, nie wiederkehrt.

Es wittert durch das schwarze Fleisch der Steine
den Tod, und sieht ihn mit den toten Augen an,
und ist mit ihm die ganze Nacht alleine

Drei Reiter nach verlor’ner Schlacht,
wie reiten sie so sacht, so sacht,
aus tiefen Wunden quillt das Blut,
es spьrt das Ross die warme Flut.
Vom Sattel lдuft das Blut, vom Zaum
und spьlt hinunter Staub und Schaum;
die Rosse schreiten sanft und weich,
sonst flцss das Blut zu rasch, zu reich.

If I could only understand
the speech of bird and tree!
How many secrets they would tell
and share them all with me!
And ev’ry bush and ev’ry rock
I’d see with different eyes;
I’d understand the river’s whisp’ring
and the raven’s cries

Out of the night that covers me,
black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance

Have you seen the riders on their horses,
as they were riding through the night?
Their bright eyes were shining so mighty,
though they still were tired from the fight.
Where do they come from?
Where do they go?
They are so different from you,
you’ll never know...

Between coloured trees she did wander alone
and felt the cold rain from above.
Again it was autumn, again she was sad
and dreamed about shelter and love.
She heard the crows croaking, listened to their cries,
the lovely sweet melancholy.
She smiled at the cold breeze that played in her hair
and so she passed by silently

Still I hear the old song,
it is sung by the birds and the leaves in the trees.
It is sung by the wind,
by the thunder and rain, by the waves in the seas.
It is sung by the merfolk, by gnomes and by dwarves,
in the rivers and mountains so deep;
it is sung by the fairies that dance in the woods,
it is sung where the unicorns sleep.