Like a Fiend in a Cloud
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Eight o’clock, moonlight is shining, The fiery fields embrace the music. Masks begin to dance, inimate, Lots of personalities are hiding. Slowly the violons are crying Overwhelming the fleshy hood, Of a woman who lost her heart In a final valse with human being. Esto sertis implicata, O femina delicata Per quam soluuntur peccata ! Sicut beneficum Lethe, Hauriam oscula de te, Quae imbuta es magnete. Velut stella salutaris In naufragiis amaris… – Suspendam cor tuis aris ! A tortured corpse is found, a maid, With open eyes and a smiling face. A cloudless statue red and white, Which disappears in changing haze. A ring is formed and hand to hand They focus on the cold-dead body, start to laugh – the begining of the end – A Bal Macabre of humanity An obscure orgy A close society A kind of sanctuary A sect – a sect – with no morality Nouis te cantabo chordis, O nouelletum quod ludis In solitudine cordis. Cum mortis salta Quum uitiorum tempestas Turbabat omnes semitas, In naufragiis amaris… Mors repetina Subfere – ad nauseam Subfere – ad vitam eternam An obscure orgy A close society A kind of sanctuary A sect – a sect – with no morality Twelve o’clock, moonlight bleeds black, the fiery fields hail the music. Masks stop to dance, certainly No is what he pretends to be; Slowly the violons finish on a festive tone Overwhelming, the last minds bone Death was coming, death is gone. (Latin extracts
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Winter is coming, freezing and deep. Lakes are forsaken – the forest sleep. And the oak and the landscapes – Aurora is awaken. Hibernal Coldness, I’m alone. Hibernal Sadness – Spleen. The horizon is white, Solitude far and wide; Escape from the dakness, Searching for someone; But the night is coming, Threatening, threatening (x2) Suffering ! In a world funarally than the night. My wit grown loudly. Goodbye esperance. The heaven sway, like a carceral covern; Conquered, the agonizing anguish, On my spirit set a flag, the color is black.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Les yeux des animaux chanteurs Et leurs chants de colère ou d’ennui M’ont interdit de sortir de ce lit. J’y passerai ma vie. L’aube dans les pays sans grâce, Prend l’apparence de l’oubli. Et qu’une femme émue s’endorme, à l’aube, La tête la première, sa chute l’illumine. Un bel oiseau me montre la lumière Elle est dans ses yeux, bien en vue. Il chante sur une boule de gui Au milieu du soleil. (x2) Comment prendre plaisir à tout ? Plutôt tout effacer. L’homme de tous les mouvements, De tous les sacrifices et de toutes les conquêtes Dort. Il dort, il dort, il dort. Il raye de ses soupirs la nuit minuscule. Un bel oiseau me montre la lumière Elle est dans ses yeux, bien en vue. Il chante sur une boule de gui Au milieu du soleil. Dort. Il dort, il dort, il dort. Il raye de ses soupirs la nuit minuscule. Je n’ai jamais rêvé d’une si belle nuit. Les femmes du jardin cherchent à m’embrasser — Soutiens du ciel, les arbres immobiles Embrassent bien l’ombre qui les soutient. Une femme au cœur pâle Met la nuit dans ses habits. L’amour a découvert la nuit Sur ses seins impalpables.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Carnivore of my daydreams, Obscure sentiment of silence. Secret touch in my earlapse; Eternety at a crawl – And I collapse Silence When finally the wind blows A blue stream crushes the evidence. Melody Autumn is calling Outrageous evidence Liquid steps – letter to a ghost; Livid eyes, killing my reflective sense; Ashes floating in my lungs, Pillow hold me so I can fall – And I collapse Silence When finally the wind blows A blue stream crushes the evidence Melody Autumn is calling Outrageous evidence
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
J’ai marché en pleurant, le long d’un sentier rude; La lune veillait sur ma route, de son regard d’argent. Ma fille dans mes bras, sanglote et gémit. J’ai marché en pleurant, le long d’un sentier rude; J’ai serré dans mes bras mon enfant, déplorant, De devoir l’apporter au cœur de la nuit. J’ai marché, déplorant, le long d’un sentier rude, La lune veille sur ma route, et son regard berçant, Illumine ma fille, et pleure sa maladie. Au cœur de la nuit, le long d’un sentier rude, J’ai prié pour ma fille, demandant instamment, Que je meure et qu’elle vive, j’ai demandé sa vie. J’ai prié pour elle, le long du sentier rude, Et elle s’éveille en pleurant; Au cœur de la nuit, ma fille dépérit. Mais je garde l’espoir, le long du sentier rude, La lune entend les prières que je livre en gémissant. En marchant je serre ma fille contre moi, elle vit.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Eight o’clock, moonlight is shining, The fiery fields embrace the music. Masks begin to dance, inimate, Lots of personalities are hiding. Slowly the violons are crying Overwhelming the fleshy hood, Of a woman who lost her heart In a final valse with human being. Esto sertis implicata, O femina delicata Per quam soluuntur peccata ! Sicut beneficum Lethe, Hauriam oscula de te, Quae imbuta es magnete. Velut stella salutaris In naufragiis amaris… – Suspendam cor tuis aris ! A tortured corpse is found, a maid, With open eyes and a smiling face. A cloudless statue red and white, Which disappears in changing haze. A ring is formed and hand to hand They focus on the cold-dead body, start to laugh – the begining of the end – A Bal Macabre of humanity An obscure orgy A close society A kind of sanctuary A sect – a sect – with no morality Nouis te cantabo chordis, O nouelletum quod ludis In solitudine cordis. Cum mortis salta Quum uitiorum tempestas Turbabat omnes semitas, In naufragiis amaris… Mors repetina Subfere – ad nauseam Subfere – ad vitam eternam An obscure orgy A close society A kind of sanctuary A sect – a sect – with no morality Twelve o’clock, moonlight bleeds black, the fiery fields hail the music. Masks stop to dance, certainly No is what he pretends to be; Slowly the violons finish on a festive tone Overwhelming, the last minds bone Death was coming, death is gone. (Latin extracts
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
But lo! the morning peeps Over the eastern steeps, And the rustling beds of dawn The earth do scorn. The wild winds weep, And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs enfold! . . . Lo! to the vault Of pavèd heaven, With sorrow fraught, My notes are driven: (x2) Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe After night I do crowd And with night will go; They strike the ear of Night, Make weak the eyes of Day; They make mad the roaring winds, And with the tempests play, I turn my back to the east From whence comforts have increased; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain. The wild winds weep, And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs enfold! . . . Lo! to the vault Of pavèd heaven, With sorrow fraught, My notes are driven: (x2)
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026