1. |
Gǣt
11:56
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Old air/in the roots/dark ground/underfoot/the ring-path/thick with before.
Tread circles/walk the past/too long we've broken/the bones of our feast.
In water/there is truth/strength of hand/the string-willed golem
dark eye-door/the path unmade/the wyrd-well/fell and sooth.
Thunder/storm-song/Hel-song/thunder/storm-song/Hel-song
Truth/there is no truth/truth/there is no truth
Thunder…
only seeking.
We are knife-treaders/feet split by blades/Sculd unfolding/like mountains.
Time bound by horns/broke by their shaking.
We seek not the light/but the stars and/what lies beyond.
Thunor, take us/break us with thunder/crack our stones
In water/there is truth/strength of hand/the string-willed golem
dark eye-door/the path unmade/the wyrd-well/fell and sooth.
In old ruts/we make new rites/Upon the sunless path/unformed fate/awaits.
Thunder…
Se Réodbeard ús mycele wisnesse forgildeþ/þisse giefe þunore þanc gelimpen.
þisse áre, wé úre þrota bléteaþ/ac Ginnendegæp úre worulde ongaþ
and se snaca-fetel fullheardor gebindeþ.
Us græf/tréowenum cliferum/us ýst/gief tó orlegniðe rídan
Se Réodbeard ús mycele wisnesse forgildeþ…
Give us/bellies full of stars/gouge us/black holes for eyes
ús ascildest/feormest úre ban/ðæt mearg níwee/þa strengþe ealde
Wé, hring-dræfend, drýmenn, þone dracan oferfylgaþ
Ná þæt án wé úre gewilnesse bléteaþ/ac éac swilce scilon his æsctír soðan.
þunor sceal þone wyrm ástýrfan/þæt úre woruld wile boren.
Darkness/from our palms/seeping between/our teeth
we are the earth/your mate/you are the sky/ours
join us in storm/wreak earth with your seed
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2. |
Ēole
10:02
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Moonfed this moss, sky-torched our trail/a soothspell of caves, at season's end we seek you
for we are all Pagan, children of cinder/eaters of seed, walkers of wheels.
Now stir earth with eve-light, rebirth spun by song
step soft into the cave, with the gifts we once gave
for we are all Pagan, reavers of winter/reapers of rite, sowers of spring.
Hear us! Hear us! Hear us! Hear us! Hretha!
Blood burns like balefire, a torch tapped from palms.
For a year spring lived in our veins, till end meets beginning again.
Moonfed this moss, sky-torched our trail/a soothspell of caves, at season's end we seek you
for we are all Pagan, children of cinder/eaters of seed, walkers of wheels.
Hretha!
Hands hilled with the bones of her last meal/mouth open for the first.
Squeeze palm-weeping upon her tongue/grant goddess the grave-gift.
Her teeth ruddy/her teeth ruddy/her teeth ruddy with our red
Elkling calf with green eyes, she holds its sapling stare
she nurses it on snow-nectar, our palm-blood from her breast.
Bone to bloom, fast to feast/bone to bloom, fast to feast
Séo eftborenu gydenu ástýraþ of hire hrúse-hreðer
læfað wæccendeu héo æt hire fót-galdor
þa treowu scíedeaþ hire snáw-scinn
þa bán-mónþas beoð fullpungenan
Rén-snaca, hire blód yðgaþ/swá swá se tagl-etere forgnægeþ
eorðmægen, swá swá þæt holmmægen hwileð
tó foldan tumbað, þæm tó wolcne astigeþ
In spring, she seeks pastures for her elkling
fiddlehead and field for fodder/berries, bones and birch bark.
Rén-snaca, hire blód yðgaþ...
At summer's end, foothills and forests/the elkling feasts upon mist.
Autumn comes/two months of blood in a smoky hall
a meat-gorge before the end/elk-bones at her feet.
þa se Geóla/þa se forst/þa þá giclas/
and hire slæpig andwlita biþ freórig eolhblóde
wé híe bringaþ tó þæm cofan
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3. |
Catte
13:08
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Caught/in star-leaves/we spin/forever/unseen unfolding
before the still/waters of our eyes
Losað!/Séo hulu!/Ðe we treddað ure bréaðe fét/holu
næfað þone wyrtwalan/béoð hamleasu
ðæt átorcynn bið áiteende ure worulde onweg.
Bind us/in ice/sap-frozen resting/our feet/stretch to the depthless
reaches of wisdom/they stretch/they fall short.
We turn/we hide/we turn/and we hide/from all/we once
knew and lost/and all we might ever know
eat ice and freeze your eyes/will we never/look to the sky?
Remember/the taste of the soil?
Crack your eyes/thaw your mind/swallow the earth/grip the sky.
Sound the horn/shatter the earth of our eyes/light a fire in our skull
feed us to Yggdrasil.
Bind us…
Geredende/Twifyrelende
We þæt tréow læfaþ/Ure mód śiwe mid wyrttruman
We forstælon þa steorran, þa éaran fylledon mid mihte þuneras,
Ure wamba fylledon mid sædum/We treddaþ, úpáwenda folma
Endeléaslice sagan/into ure banum græfaþ ungedállice rúnstafas.
We þæt tréow læfaþ…
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4. |
Hræfne
05:54
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Lung-deep well, feeder of the tree/the Wyrd, weaving from the seep
climbing up the roots, through Nifolham we seek/the fog-eyed Drymenn of the hunt.
We come from the mountains, rain in our hair/the earth has claimed us, naked and bare
long the mossy path has guided us home/the ravens' croak overhead, the green-ocean's foam.
On Sleipnir's stolen back, we drive far into the wood/hear the cry of our bones
we have come to wake the world with our screams/Woden, take our kill.
We come from the mountains, rain in our hair/the earth has claimed us, naked and bare.
Lo, the mossy path has guided us home/the ravens' croak overhead, the green-ocean's moan.
We, moldweg/þone willað/úre eardlufe bedælað
siððan wintera iú/ond wé, þonan/wód prútlíce
ofer lyfta gebind/hwær wé, feor oððe neah/þeah þæm beorhtan æsce
findað mihte/þe, in Esangearde/þone wildene fyrnwitan.
Logs of ice, snarling mouth of flame/with mist we craft, in mist we wreak our game.
Lend us your tooth to carve into the gloaming
tree-deep the spear thrust into our hungry roaming.
We come from the mountains, rain in our hair/the earth has claimed us, naked and bare.
Lo, the mossy path has guided us home/the ravens' croak overhead, the green-ocean's moan.
Woden! Hyge! Myne! Woden!
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Cascadian Alliance Eugene, Oregon
CA is a record label that supports the artists of Cascadia, a bioregion of the Pacific NW.
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