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English:
The Descent of Kaimadalthas
Body of the oak spirit, sorcerer's wand. Sorcerer with key and mask, naked and white, into the grave, only dressed in the ash of our world.
Along the walls; long, pointy spears. On the benches, mails of steel. He tip-toes without a sound, see ash on the ground from fires.
I travel to the darkest deep where everything is dead.
Into the dark realm of the mound, the silent dead sit there. Must not yield to fear, but travel to the desolate places of the world.
Roof is covered with shields, helmets, belts, knives and swords; above the brown soil of the stone hall a creature, the ghost of a woman.
The shape of the sorcerer in the tree outside, hangs, bending its head. The cow bleeds, hear it cry, the sorcerer unties his knots.
The sorcerer collects the gifts given to him by the pale dead, from old dark stone graves he finds the most beautiful.
I go to Kelio. I travel to the darkest deep where everything is dead.
Belt and mail, cakes and clothes, helmets and divine weapons, runes and verses, dried berries, the door to the grave is open!
From elves, the craftsmen of weapons, to fair reborn dead, those who fought the wolf in a world now desolate.
Thank you!!!
English:
The Descent of Kaimadalthas
Body of the oak spirit, sorcerer's wand. Sorcerer with key and mask, naked and white, into the grave, only dressed in the ash of our world.
Along the walls; long, pointy spears. On the benches, mails of steel. He tip-toes without a sound, see ash on the ground from fires.
I travel to the darkest deep where everything is dead.
Into the dark realm of the mound, the silent dead sit there. Must not yield to fear, but travel to the desolate places of the world.
Roof is covered with shields, helmets, belts, knives and swords; above the brown soil of the stone hall a creature, the ghost of a woman.
I travel to the darkest deep where everything is dead.
The shape of the sorcerer in the tree outside, hangs, bending its head. The cow bleeds, hear it cry, the sorcerer unties his knots.
The sorcerer collects the gifts given to him by the pale dead, from old dark stone graves he finds the most beautiful.
I go to Kelio. I travel to the darkest deep where everything is dead.
Belt and mail, cakes and clothes, helmets and divine weapons, runes and verses, dried berries, the door to the grave is open!
From elves, the craftsmen of weapons, to fair reborn dead, those who fought the wolf in a world now desolate.
I go to Kelio. I travel to the darkest deep where everything is dead.
Thank you!!!
Thank you!!!