Sirens

On this cold Winter's night The wolves cry to the moon In the darkness Chilled by frost Stalking their prey Frozen landscapes Silent still Ghostly fog Retells the past Gravestone reveries The dead lay still As the wolves take the night Through ice and snow The wolves retreat Nature overtakes them Returning To the den of wolves...

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

My frozen kingdom Beseech my wretched heart As I grasp Death's cold hand Concealed in time All that is light Blackens eternal Woe is living Disillusioned from body and mind Before my eyes The world withers Anguished cries of the dead Embalm my soul Misery! Embodied by thee Fall from grace To the depths Thy words lash swift, piercing A thin white veil Maligned, yet sublime Unrelenting All-encompassing Sirens

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 25, 2025

Among the mountaintops Frozen bodies lay still A cascading wind's toil Not soon forgotten The rising smoke The falling leaves A journey unwinding Through ice and fire The glimmer of the moon Guides my way As I ascend A paragon of winter A specter of light Boreal tundra Chills my soul

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 25, 2025

Ice piercing woodland core As permafrost encases the mind Maternal scorn Frozen in time Calling from the north winds Collapse of my inner self The tundra within Shall never thaw As the wind blows As the river flows As the fire roars My soul shall freeze An arctic eclipse On this stormy night I pursue the northern lights The meaning of life - The fine game of nil In search of home

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025

De ventede Tøsens Hiemkomst Hun vaer i mørck Skog faren vild Sneens Tepper hafde bredet sig hen Paa Stien hiem - hendes eeneste Ven Om hun bare kunde Følge Stiernernes Baner Ey hun skulde vildfare Blandt disse mørcke Graner Skogens mørcke Arme forbarmede sig ofver dend fremmede Giæst Giorde hende vaer i siine inderste Tankers Veemod At i Bergekongens Kammer tørstes efter Christenblod [De Underjordiske:] «Det nærmer sig stille: Een sørgeklæst Pige Sidder derinde med foldede Hænder Hun sender een Bøn til det himmeldske Rige» Ofver hendes Hode Det drybber fra Qviist Draabe for Draabe som Blodet Fra Kroppen til Jesu Christ [Pigen:] «Aa, eismal i ein uggin Skog Eg kjenn at i Kveld I Kveld tenkjer ingen paa meg»

Submitted by MetalElf — Nov 16, 2025