The land lies pale in the first light
A white veil devours the forests
Removes them from the mournful gaze
And a heart grew colder
Sluggish and gloomyâ ¦
The fog clings to the treetops
Winter celebrates its victory
And silence falls on the mountain peaks
And suddenly the call falls silent
Far away only the song of the forests
Consuming them, a white veil covered them
And hatred, sadness, longing faded away
The fog - oppressively covered the land
The fog - brought one lonely silence
Only fog - where a striving fire once burned
Only fog - no happiness, no hatred, or will
Silence, where otherwise raging anger
Only lonely emptiness remains< br/>Silence where there would otherwise be a glow of longing
A warrior lost sight of the fire
The echo of the screams fell silent
All that remained was the emptiness
My gaze was lost in the distance
When I turned my back on the forests
But the forests carried the will within them
Without them only stagnation remains
And the fog that breaks the soul
Clung icily to the land
How I like to hear the mournful song again
Feel life again
How I like to hear the sound of joy again
Knots in fate ' threads
The fog - oppressively covered the land
The fog - brought a lonely silence
Only fog - where a striving fire once burned
Only fog - no luck, no Hatred, or will
English Translation by Chaedrist:
The countryside dimly lies in prime light.
A white veil engulfs the woods,
conceals them from doleful eyes
and a chill was cast on a heart.
Stagnantly and dismallyâ¦
The brume clings to the treetops.
Winter celebrates its victory
and silence lies down on the mountaintops.
And suddenly the call falls silent,
the chant of woods only afar.
A white veil coated them consumptively
and hatred, grief, yearning subsided.
The brume - coated the countryside oppressively.
The brume - brought a solitary silence.
Only brume - where once a thrusting fire had burned.
Only brume - no bliss, neither hatred nor will.
Silence where once wild rage.
Only solitary emptiness remains.
Silence where once the blaze of yearning.
A warrior lost the fire in his eyes.
Broken off the echo of cries ,
only emptiness remained.
My gaze got lost in the distance
as I turned my back on the woods.
But the woods bore the will,
without them only stagnation remains
and the brume that bursts the soul
clung gently to the countryside.
How I would love to hear the plaintive song again,
would feel life again.
/>How I would love to hear the sound of bliss again;
knots in the threads of fate.
The brume - coated the countryside oppressively.
The brume - brought a solitary silence.< br/>Only brume - where once a striving fire had burned.
Only brume - no bliss, neither hatred nor will.

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