duminică, 30 noiembrie 2014

The little woman in the other fields

Once upon a time begins a legend of old
Lived a little woman in Salzburg’s lands
When night emerges she would roam thru the fields
Alluring the weary travelers on the stony bridge
With the passion and intention
To frighten them till their hair stood on ends
And as soon as the first glimpse of dawn breaks out
She would vanish in the mists of illusion
While she utters a shrilling shout.

But, that is not our story
Or the lady that we seek.
We have another to tell,
Written on ethereal flows…

She was born from phoenix’s ashes
In the year of the draug, the thirteen week
And her name for sure no one knows
As worlds collide and heaven crashes
She wandered upon the blasphemous lands
Blessing the fiends with plague and turning water to sand.
Ivory bones of her ancestors rest easy in the family tomb
As she carries the next apocalypse deep in her unholy womb;
She is untamed and revered by a gruesome song
For her deeds as immortal stand tall for ages long:
She cut down the mighty pillar Yggdrasill
For not moving and in her way standing still;
She went to Nifleheim and the huldrefolk conquered,
Then by a waidelothin in Hvergelmir’s tenebrous water baptized;
The waelcyrge felt the unstoppable wrath
When got a taste of their own poison for crossing her path;
She entered the dreams of mortals and, with caress,
Like a walriderske, gave them beauteous nightmares;
From underworld’s river Slid she chose her weapons;
Slew the Skogsjungfru so there were no more crops or rations;
The Earendel stood on the sky warm and bright,
She chopped his body and renewed him in darkness’s light.

And many more villainous deeds are sung in the ode of grotesque bliss
But as our time has ended she insanely went amiss
If night comes over your fields, the quill’s words heed
Her presence is with you and she wants to feed
Upon an exhausted traveler, a brave knight or a diaphanous spirit to endark
Tell the story, sing the song, they will shiver in this tribute as they embark.