Asgaard Ad Sidera, Ad Infinitum Sadness of Stony Angel The Way of The Secret Rapture Mon Ange Love... blood... & eternity I've brought a flower for You... for Us ...about Love Let me die... Sadness of Stony Angel Utwór instrumentalny The Way of The Secret Rapture The blackness of the Night profund dyed with o colour of flower The flowers of love, desire and fulfillment... Why do they call my felling a sin?! Why do they call my sin infernal love ?! Love... another empty word, the brat of human mind. Those cannot love whose bodies are torn by jealous looks of slaves. The streams of blasphemous blood head towards divine eternity; Pitful howl of wolves in the silent Night... This is a name of love The blasphemous eternal beauty, My lonesome song, The essence of my life, The passionate truth sprinkled with cursed blood, my blood The blood of Fallen Angel. Mon Ange Somewhere... in time and out of time In love to hatred, in hatred to love I was born And I hung between heaven and earth, beetwen beauty and banality, beetwen enchantment and a culmination of life. My sisters - stars - endow heaven with beauty twinkling seducively with their horrified eyes; Yet they can't love so much & hate that much With one breath of solitary lust This one breath obscures their gleam so much unstable... And I rise over the peaks to extoll your beauty of virigin which with its grandeur sadden the prodigious angels... I hate all that lasts only a while. love... life... the shine of wretched stars. In a downpour of love at Your gate of passion I stand. You're my heart!!! A pearl in the Universe of stone... Love me forever !!! Every single moment I dream about our extasy... In the time... and out of time... In the time... and out of time... Love... Blood... & Eternity Passion... some secret force a scream or horro like a wild flower in a hoodwinked Devil's hand... The breath of wind chasing o being of original love, of original faith in the immortality of human soul and its infiteness. Passion... the last proof of the truth in the hand of an imprisoned man. Just only a while... the last breath... I've heard! The heavently moan groans with the echo of delighted hearts, the nocturnal suffering tornished with disappointed madmans blood Then there was only silence... ...and sadness of the stony faith pierced with the TREASON dagger and only the time did stop for a while, a little stupefied and dumbly ravished blew another candle... I've brought a flower for You... for Us The memory bore a tear; the stars have faded, the dreams got quiet... only the faith in eternity full of passion, unmufled flickered a little with a pale, shivering flame... A small part of You I passes in me, a bit of Your dreams, which You didn't happen to tell me about, a bit of a felling that this damn time has taken away from Us... Remember me... Remember painlessly full of extasy and sweetness of those moments, culmination of time which has passed... We are so far away from each other, parted by the void between two worlds, chated by time... I depart... I will lie beside You... ... about Love Part I - The Halfshade's birth Proud... yet so easy Crowned with a thorn of his lust A slave of Beauty... Like an autumn rain which cries the silver tears and in the God's eye plays the traitor, He clads the joy in sorrow, with a colour of Night paints the dreams to become free... to touch the heart, that gave him life... Yet the lust has declined Damned be his name Only the tears have remained, The pieces of ancient splendour dipped in the torment of passion... His sun will never rise again. Shining with a gleam of fulfillment ...the ray of Love. Part II - Darkness Filfillment smeared with blood... a dagger in Your hand; The flower of Love has died burning with admiration for Beauty, which has never been seen... he didn't understand... he did hate... Let Me Die... Humming elegiac nocturne he strode throught life poisoned with lies and he picked flowers, which have never been offered to anybody... Then he kissed their petals calling them dreams, admiring their diversity. He always liked the wilted ones, the ones he often found on graves. He felt, they had more beauty then the fresh ones, untouched by the claw of passing time the real forms of excellence - he felt, that the other ones have something more to say... When he took a flower to his hand all seemed strangely concetrated, scared us by eerie expectation of Something... This Something was everywhere, in each element of his disorted world, in his tragism; It observed us from each precipice of mind, it shone with a glitter of malicious stars suspended on the verge of reality and imagination. Each of these flowers randez-vous was his love and each of his loves was something entirely new, something elusive - as he said. Because you cannot touch Beauty without understanding it, without being convinced that it is valuable. The years elapsed...And he still kissed these flowers sneering at life, which he deprived of charm... And finally he stole all the colours... And even the sun stopped shining, as there was nobody to shine for... Then he cried... putting his head between his knees. And his tear crossed the sky... and bore unfaith. Today nobody remembers him, today they are the New... Humming this mournful nocturne striding throught life poisoned with lies and pick his flowers... It is a sacrifice for Eternity, culmination of life... victory The memories watered with divine tears. Now, may I leave ?!