Microcosmos

From the forests and highlands We come, we come; From the river-girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb, Listening to my sweet pipings. The wind in the reeds and the rushes, The bees on the bells of thyme, The cicale above in the lime, And the lizards below in the grass, Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was, Listening to my sweet pipings. Liquid Peneus was flowing, And all dark Tempe lay In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing The light of the dying day, Speeded by my sweet pipings. The Sileni and Sylvans and Fauns, And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, To the edge of the moist river-lawns, And the brink of the dewy caves, And all that did then attend and follow, Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo, With envy of my sweet pipings.

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 26, 2025

To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters' cold Have from the forests shook three summers' pride; Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the seasons have I seen; Three April perfumes in three Hot Junes burn'd, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. Ah! Yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, Steal from his fugure, and no pace perceiv'd; So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd. For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred, Ere you were born, was beauty's summer dead. William Shakespeare (1564-1616) : Sonnet CIV.

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025

These are the clouds about the fallen sun, The majesty that shuts his burning eye: The weak lay hand on what the strong has done, Till that be tumbled that was lifted high And discord follow upon unison, And all things at one common level lie. And therefore, friend, if your great race were run And these things came, So much the more thereby Have you made greatness for your companion, Although it be for children that you sigh: These are the clouds about the fallen sun, The majesty that shuts his burning eye. William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 26, 2025

Paths untrodden Hic omnia habet Mors! Fierce Pestilent Depraved Nature! Their sons they sign Their sons they sign All of them On untrodden paths The matter is chasing you God Balm of oblivion Torch be in his hands Reveal a foil to him Insode is the expedient Close your eyes and rush On untrodden paths Reel into the dusk There's nothing to lose To find her And take her two hands Unbind the leaves of her palms Do paint her second dawn By colours so panting

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 26, 2025

Embalmed in echoing songs I Wreathed in myrtle, my sword I'll conceal Like those champions devoted and brave, When they plunged in the tyrant their steel, And to Athens deliverance gave. II Beloved heroes! Your deathless souls roam In the joy breathing isles of the blest ; Where the mighty of old have their home– Where Achilles and Diomed rest. III In fresh myrtle my blade I'll entwine, Like Harmodius, the gallant and good, When he made at the tutelar shrine A liberation of Tyranny's blood. IV Ye deliverers of Athens from shame! Ye avengers of Liberty's wrongs! Endless ages shall cherish your fame, Embalmed in their ecoing songs! Hymn to Aristogeiton and Harmodius Translation from the Greek by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 26, 2025

This track is instrumental.

Is this song not instrumental?

This track is instrumental.

Is this song not instrumental?

Panta rhei "It is as if lines have to be drawn in a continually flowing stream, figures drawn which hold fast. Between this reality of life and the scientific intellect there appears to be no possibility of comprehension, for the concept sunders what is to be unified in the flow of life. The concept represents something which is universally and eternally valid, independent of the mind which propounds it. But the flow of life is at all points unique, every wave in it arises and passes." Wilhelm Dilthey (1859-1933) In the night I swim like in dead water Petrified lure is the moon And the silence drives nails into my throat Immense wisdom in this mute ocean Flowing through the ditches of time A substance insubstantial In the night I swim like in dead water But aridity's building a mountain in my heart Darkness is drifting Sweping me away with the mire A brick I would be In the wall of an old house Only to see and not to feel The times desiccated by winter Only to see and not to feel Yet my hair in the womb And my soles on the ruins The pain of a world Cuts a path into the current And I have seen whither you went

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 26, 2025

Októberi kép Csorognak a percek le feketére festik a világot úgy mondják, vigyáz ránk a hold és hisszük mi is gyönyörü vagy és gyönyörü vagyok most

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

Desolatio Awakening winter Petal even in its bereavement Grief even in its root Cumbersome soil Appearing into tower Standing fast All is far away The feeble light Is devouring fog Hollow vacancy Within those archways Alive decay We edge away And approach In the lostness Until falling asleep Slowly becomeslace Privacy In the mute falming Of the universe Desolation

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025