The Pale Mist Hovers Towards the Nightly Shores - Carpathian Forest

Eternally sounds the mighty waves

A triton’s hymn round a rock-strewn grave

The passing sigh for the bones that moulder

Over the nordic black sea, where the winds btew colder

Here in a bed of wrack and shingle

Beneath rests a sea king of the north

His fallen history remains unknown

Now his grave is just a heap of stones

«The waves crest sharp as an unsheated blade

As spume-topped breakers shorewards loom

And boulder on boulder on land is laid

The triton’s hymn round a vanished tomb»

The ocean cradles it’s sleepy wave

Round the curve of the yellow sand

Of the bleak and mysterious little isle

Where no leaf has been touched by human hands

Then I behold that island so fair

Where the tree’s lift their crown in prayers

To the golden glow of the evening sky

I hold the sword towards the moon

My memories echoes with cries

Hark, to the ocean’s cold clamerous roar

The pale mist hovers towards the nightly shores

For the fire in my burning flame

Hail to the father of the fallen flame

Acknowledge the supreme Northern (racial) purity

That runs in the blood of my veins

As the nocturnal curtain falls

With the total eclipse of the moon above…

The pale mist hovers towards the nightly shores