Journey Through the Cold Moors of Svarttjern

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....