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Nimphaion
Members | |
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Current | |
Ilya Evstigneev | Bass |
Alexander Pozhivilko | Drums |
Vadim Malyshev | Guitars |
Sofia Przhesmitskaya | Keyboards (2009-2010, 2013-present) |
Demether Grail | Vocals (2014-present) |
Member(bands): Arcanorum Astrum, Chatalhüyük, Grailight, Lunae Ortus, Renunciation, Shallow Rivers, Skylord, Zmey Gorynich, Бѣсъ, Arcane Grail, Neorhythm, Armaga, Atra Mustum, Изморозь, Откровения Дождя, Emerald Night (live), СатанаКозёл (live) | |
Past | |
Andrey Kustov | Guitars |
Cassandra | Keyboards |
Galina Varentsova | Keyboards (2007-2008) |
Terra Teratos | Keyboards, Vocals (2009) |
Member(bands): Furva Ambiguitas, Terribilis, Н.О.В.А.Р.А., Terra Teratos, Lethargia, Goetia [Rus], Tierdrama, Мертвые Песни, Рокот Волн | |
Yulia Lubnina | Keyboards (2011-2013) |
Alexey Lapshov | Vocals (2011-2014) |
Member(bands): Moongates Guardian, Putrification, Regnat Horrendum, Vision of Elders, Holdaar, Mysterion |
# | Discography | Type | Year | |
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1 | Death Elegy | Demo | 2005 | Show album |
2 | In Darkness | Demo | 2009 | Show album |
3 | In Darkness | Full-length | 2011 | Show album |
4 | Sacrifice | Single | 2013 | Show album |
5 | Flame of Faith | Full-length | 2013 | Show album |
6 | The Conqueror Worm | Single | 2017 | Show album |
7 | Quoth the Raven | Full-length | 2018 | Show album |
8 | Червь-победитель | Single | 2019 | Show album |
Death Elegy
Tracks | |||
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1. | Invasion | 01:33 | instrumental |
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2. | Born for Burning | 04:56 | Show lyrics |
Born for burning People do not like a witch, her fate will damage Percussion of she will continue, while she die in flames. She stand near a pillar and hangman bringing a flame, But witch whisper a words and fetters fall from her hands. Freedom burning your legs, Only death can stop this pets. |
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3. | Virgin Blood | 04:04 | Show lyrics |
Virgin blood On the black stone of altar Is laying a death wolf body, In the midnight it will wake up With magic ceremony. The blood of the beautiful virgin Will pour out from the warlock’s boul, And it’s life wit the invocation Will come in ratting corpse. R.: Living in the earth on day And riseing by the virgin blood, The beast obeyed by warlock And went for the warlock to the hunt. The knife in the warlock’s hand Was drive in her panting heart. And in the deadly cramp she Was push her slayer’s cup. And her bloodfrom the cupful Was pour out in the beast, Unlinked with a magic power, It’s waked free... R. :Living in the earth on day And riseing by the virgin blood, The beast obeyed by warlock And went for the warlock to the hunt. Living in the earth on day And riseing by the virgin blood, The beast obeyed by it Was eat a slayer heart. |
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4. | Expiation | 03:35 | |
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5. | Die with Pleasure | 03:21 | |
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6. | Death Elegy | 04:22 | |
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7. | Don’t Leave Me Hunny | 03:10 | |
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25:01 |
In Darkness
Tracks | |||
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1. | Preludium | 01:16 | |
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2. | Buried Alive | 03:22 | |
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3. | In Darkness | 04:16 | |
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4. | Arachne | 04:05 | |
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5. | Solitude | 03:21 | |
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6. | Lonely River | 05:08 | |
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7. | Carrie | 04:23 | |
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8. | The Castaway | 03:49 | |
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9. | Rising Forse (Yngwie Malmsteen cover) | 03:44 | |
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33:24 |
In Darkness
Members | |
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Ilya Evstigneev | Bass |
Alexander Pozhivilko | Drums |
Vadim Malyshev | Vocals, Guitars |
Sofia Przhesmitskaya | Keyboards |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Preludium | 01:16 | instrumental |
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2. | Buried Alive | 03:22 | |
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3. | In Darkness | 04:14 | |
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4. | Arachne | 04:05 | |
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5. | Solitude | 03:21 | |
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6. | Lonely River | 05:08 | |
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7. | Carrie | 04:33 | |
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8. | The Castaway | 03:49 | |
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29:48 |
Sacrifice
Tracks | |||
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1. | Wicked and Proud | 06:06 | Show lyrics |
Strike by strike, lash nurses his back, Driving humility into the restless brain. Chains cut into the shreds of his flash, Bringing reassurance along with the pain And fear of endless curse and flame ahead. He tries to beat them out every night again. Only the screaming is filling the poor cell, Where slave of the God raises his pray, Begging to free him of carnal temptations, Strengthen his spirit and give him the patience. And scars on his back thereafter he wears With pride but humility mask on his face. How could he know the ways of the faith? Following words of his madness, he failed, Changing the spirit to meaningless rite, Obediently, gutless slave tortures himself. Thoughtlessly tortureing emaciated flash, Tormented by hunger, he prays day and night, And millions of churchmen are praying in vain, Under the loud and pleased satan’s laugh ”Forgive me, father, I have sinned” With penitential mug to the fat prist he speaks. So freely dropping pious tears from his eyes He does belive it is a true holy life. And all of shake he’s waiting for absolution of the Pope, and glad to kiss his hands when he recieves. Strike by strike, he implements his penance again Used living in the pain every day In hope which he recieved from the prists That executing will give all he needs. And prists like one tell only single word No one, but church can lead him to Lord Don’t dare to raise your head above the rite No one but only church is always right. |
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2. | Sacrifice | 06:30 | Show lyrics |
Born in the mud of disfigured faith, Nourished with superstitios fier and lies, They were foredoomed to be a humble herd, Which plods towards luring light of ancient rites. Ffom birth and till death they spend lives in Pathetic dressing which they as vurtue take, In simulacrum of imaginary holyness Covering with pathos of the ritual their futility. Fastened with dogmas remains of their faith The blinds lead the blinds, crowling up on their knees. Abrading them to bones, with no hope to achieve The light they can’t see in their proud insanity. Prudes in golden clothes look haughtly at their herd, Which hark reverently with open mouths, And feed them holy-smelling backward rusk They had recieved as spiritual inheritance. Father, when did you wash your disciples’ feet last time? Isn’t pride and madness all you’ll leave behind? Liars and liars’ brood, now pay your bitter price For that wich your fathers dishallowed before And wich you are still raping now Do eat up the mana that has become the worms, Maybe one view on your corpses after the years Make you see the decay you were sometime deify! |
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12:36 |
Flame of Faith
Members | |
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Ilya Evstigneev | Bass |
Alexander Pozhivilko | Drums |
Vadim Malyshev | Guitars |
Yulia Lubnina | Keyboards |
Alexey Lapshov | Vocals |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Dark Age Begins | 02:11 | Show lyrics |
Devil or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure thee: Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch, And straightway give thy soul to him thou servest. |
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2. | ...Delenda Est | 04:58 | Show lyrics |
Dies irae, dies illa, Solvet saeclum in favilla. Quantus tremor est futurus, Quando judex est venturus, Confutatis maledictis, Flammis acribus addictis, Remedisti crusem passus, Tantus labor non sit cassus. With ash and blood the way was paved, which led us to the light Through fear, abasement, lies and pain in chains we wear on heart. Whip, steel and fire we’ve chosen once, in place of mind that gone, The church became the tyrant for us, on fear its stone throne. In pain and force of fire we trust, Since rise of ancient ages, Entrusting them the children of ours, Who don’t want to be slaves, (Blind and silent slaves). Now I am walking to the fire, lest come to be in hell Tread on my brothers’ mute remains, which hated lies as well, Under the thunder of the drums, under the bawl of crowd, And stone-cold look of bored monks, who wished to be my court. The bloody sweat of fear before the thing that’ll happen soon. Just catching for the look of those, I’m not a beast for whom. And found none I plainly see, there is not human face The fire is only place for me, the death is only grace. Voca me cum benectis. Oro supplex et acclinis, Cor contritum quasi cinis, Gere curam mei finis. Remedisti crusem passus, Tantus labor non sit cassus. Juste judex ultionis, Donum fac remissiones. I’ll be just ash before the nigtht And someone’ll step on me Free of the sanity and fear, Which burned much stronger than fire. |
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3. | Disfigured Rite | 05:14 | Show lyrics |
Born in the mud of disfigured faith, Nourished with superstitious fear and lies, They were foredoomed to be a humble herd, Which plods towards luring light of ancient rites. From birth and till death they spend lives in Pathetic dressing which they as virtue take, In simulacrum of imaginary holiness Covering with pathos of the ritual their futility. Fastened with dogmas remains of their faith The blinds lead the blinds, crawling up on their knees. Abrading them to bones, with no hope to achieve The light they can’t see in their proud insanity. Prudes in golden clothes look haughtily at their herd, Which hark reverently with open mouths, And feed them holy-smelling backward rusk They had received as spiritual inheritance. Father, when did you wash your disciples’ feet last time? Isn’t pride and madness all you’ll leave behind? Liars and liars’ brood, now pay your bitter price For which your fathers disallowed before And which you are still raping now Do eat up the manna that has become the worms, Maybe one view on your corpses after the years Make you see the decay you were sometime deify! |
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4. | Possession | 05:31 | Show lyrics |
The rage of thunderstorm will not disturb your sleep, And lightnings’ flashes will not touch your eyes. Desiring to taste forbidden pleasures’ sweet You’re ready to give yourself up to other’s will Bedazzled by lust you were delirious, Resigning yourself to evil spirit’s genius. Your carnal desires all became so real, And your soul was tainted by the profanity. Towards the fallen’s way you’ve made a step, Foredoomed yourself to be a temptation’s slave. You’re craving thoughtlessly for Incubus careses, Only carnal delights are important for you. Having cognized voluptuous ecstasy with demon, You are accepting your Tempter’s semen. And then you’ll have devil incarnate in your womb, To prolong his nature untill the Doom. Insatiable for lust, he was dethroned by the Lord Being in eternal pursuit for victims of his reward. To those whose thoughts are unholy he is indulging in passion, Righteous ones won’t ever redeem from his sinful seduction. |
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5. | In Flame of Faith | 04:21 | Show lyrics |
Fire of redemption and steel of repentance, Sanctified water will wash sinful blood. Recognition which taken under the tortures Plunges the victim’s soul into darkness. Guilty of atrocity will surely be proved, Torturer is skillful, intolerable pain is. Terrifying tools in his ruthless hands Will get recognition in submortem scream. Repentance in sins under fiery steel, Under the fear of unthinkable pain. Confession to torturer, suffering flesh, Suffering mind which can only be waiting for End of the pain in death’s embrace, In mercy of withering flame of their faith! In the stench of burning hair, In the smell of smoldering flesh Through the roar of the raging flame Sound of cursing are loudly heard To the clerical prudes who killing their herd For the name of that who died on the cross. Medieval terror which called inquisition Thousand souls have died in the flame. Rage of the crowd and clerical madness, Blood on their hands is indelible shame! Centuries-old madness under the banner of Christ. Puritans lead their slaves into holy war, Those who’s trembling in fear of eternal damnation And streams of blood drip down from the cross, Which they hold in their desecrating hands. |
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6. | Wicked and Proud | 06:06 | Show lyrics |
Strike by strike, lash nurses his back, Driving humility into the restless brain. Chains cut into the shreds of his flash, Bringing reassurance along with the pain And fear of endless curse and flame ahead. He tries to beat them out every night again. Only the screaming is filling the poor cell, Where slave of the God raises his pray, Begging to free him of carnal temptations, Strengthen his spirit and give him the patience. And scars on his back thereafter he wears With pride but humility mask on his face. How could he know the ways of the faith? Following words of his madness, he failed, Changing the spirit to meaningless rite, Obediently, gutless slave tortures himself. Thoughtlessly tortureing emaciated flash, Tormented by hunger, he prays day and night, And millions of churchmen are praying in vain, Under the loud and pleased satan’s laugh ”Forgive me, father, I have sinned” With penitential mug to the fat prist he speaks. So freely dropping pious tears from his eyes He does belive it is a true holy life. And all of shake he’s waiting for absolution of the Pope, and glad to kiss his hands when he recieves. Strike by strike, he implements his penance again Used living in the pain every day In hope which he recieved from the prists That executing will give all he needs. And prists like one tell only single word No one, but church can lead him to Lord Don’t dare to raise your head above the rite No one but only church is always right. |
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7. | Sacrifice | 06:30 | Show lyrics |
Born in the mud of disfigured faith, Nourished with superstitios fier and lies, They were foredoomed to be a humble herd, Which plods towards luring light of ancient rites. Ffom birth and till death they spend lives in Pathetic dressing which they as vurtue take, In simulacrum of imaginary holyness Covering with pathos of the ritual their futility. Fastened with dogmas remains of their faith The blinds lead the blinds, crowling up on their knees. Abrading them to bones, with no hope to achieve The light they can’t see in their proud insanity. Prudes in golden clothes look haughtly at their herd, Which hark reverently with open mouths, And feed them holy-smelling backward rusk They had recieved as spiritual inheritance. Father, when did you wash your disciples’ feet last time? Isn’t pride and madness all you’ll leave behind? Liars and liars’ brood, now pay your bitter price For that wich your fathers dishallowed before And wich you are still raping now Do eat up the mana that has become the worms, Maybe one view on your corpses after the years Make you see the decay you were sometime deify! |
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8. | From the Ash | 04:11 | instrumental |
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39:02 |
The Conqueror Worm
Members | |
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Band members | |
Ilya Evstigneev | Bass |
Alexander Pozhivilko | Drums |
Vadim Malyshev | Guitars |
Demether Grail | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Vadim Malyshev | Recording, Mixing, Mastering |
Tracks | |||
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1. | The Conqueror Worm (single version) | 04:46 | |
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2. | Lenore (single version) | 06:07 | |
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10:53 |
Quoth the Raven
Members | |
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Band members | |
Ilya Evstigneev | Bass |
Alexander Pozhivilko | Drums |
Vadim Malyshev | Guitars, Keyboards |
Demether Grail | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Vadim Malyshev | Artwork |
Roman "Arsafes" Iskorostensky | Mastering, Mixing |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Welcome to the House of Usher | 02:22 | Show lyrics |
Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin; Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win! During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was — but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me — upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain — upon the bleak walls — upon the vacant eye-like windows — upon a few rank sedges — and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees — with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium… What was it — I paused to think — what was it that so unnerved me in this terrible House of Usher? |
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2. | The Conqueror Worm | 04:42 | Show lyrics |
Lo! It is a gala night Within the latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes roughly The music of the spheres Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither, oh and thither fly — Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to-fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible, Oh Woe! That motley drama! — oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for ever more, By a crowd seize it not Salve Deus Magnus Vermis! Devoratrix nostrum cordis! Nos quaerere nam permis Ut sint servitori vobis! Through a circle that ever returneth Into the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin And Horror the soul of plot But see, amid the mimic rout, A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude! It writhes! It writhes! — with mortal pangs The mimes become its food, And angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued Nos - filii ex libero Et numquid universali, Quid facere quod anima Regendisque ex stellis, Et Gloria terrena dulcis Vermis-victum dedit nos Gloria amore fetus luce et tenebris, oh! Worm in fiery crown Rules this world of light Kiss His knees and vow Glorify His might! Out are the lights — out all! And o’er each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm! And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy "Man", And its hero the Conqueror Worm; And the demons, all ruby and fanned They abandon, condemn, disaffirm That their play is the comedy "Man" And its king is the Conqueror Worm! |
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3. | Lenore | 06:15 | Show lyrics |
Ah, broken is the golden bowl! The spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll! – a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river; And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear? – weep now or nevermore! See! On yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore! “Come! Let the burial rite be read – the funeral song be sung! – An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young” A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young A wistful song of lovers fed with blood from necks that hung! My lovely nymph that shone like star fell on the earth with pun And my salt tears run like river, and darkened beaming God of Light and Sun… Sun! CHORUS: Peccavimus; but rave not thus! And let a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong The sweet Lenore hath "gone before", with Hope, that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the child that should have been thy bride For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes The life still there, upon her hair – the death upon her eyes… The death still there, upon her wear – and eyes are full of cries! "Wretches! Ye lov’d her for her wealth and hated for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health, ye bless’d her – that she died! How shall the ritual, be read?” – The requiem be sung. For everlasting martyrdom the sins were madly done And hellish bells around your soul forevermore had rung! CHORUS "Avaunt! Avaunt! From fiends below, the irate ghost is riven – From grief and groan, to golden throne, beside the King of Heaven! From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Well – From good and laugh, to skull-clad throne, beside the King of Hell!” Let no bell toll, then – lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth, Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damnèd Earth! And I! – to-night my heart is light! – No dirge will I upraise, But waft the angel on her flight with Paean of old days! CHORUS “Let no bell toll, then – lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth, Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damnèd Earth!” |
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4. | Valley of Unrest | 06:36 | Show lyrics |
...Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars Nightly, from their azure towers, To keep watch above the flowers, In the midst of which all day The red sun lazily lay The red sunlight lazily lay… Now each visitor confess The sad valley’s restlessness Nothing there is motionless In this dale of hopelessness! Hopelessness in portliness Of isle that show Despair and woe O’er the violets that lie In myriad types of the human eye – O’er the lilies there that wave And weep above a nameless grave! They wave from out their fragrant tops Eternal dews come down in drops They weep from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems CHORUS: By no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven That rustle through unquiet Heaven Around the misty Hebrides! Hebrides... Winds are dancing o’er the vales of woe And spinning clouds full of tears Restless tears… Around only death a-flying And wilted flowers clothed these isles And souls howl song of perish ‘Neath the weeping moon Nightly, from their azure towers, To keep watch above the flowers, In the midst of which all day The red sun lazily lay Nothing saves the airs that brood O’er magic solitude Waves and winds are bloody rude In this season’s servitude ...Once it smiled a silent dell Where the people did not dwell; They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars! Now each visitor confess The sad valley’s restlessness Nothing there is motionless In this dale of hopelessness... Hopelessness sans chrominance Upon that isle So un-hostile! O’er the violets that lie In myriad types of the human eye – O’er the lilies there that wave And weep above a nameless grave! They wave from out their fragrant tops Eternal dews come down in drops They weep from off their delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems CHORUS: By no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven That rustle through unquiet Heaven Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees That palpitate like the chill seas Around the misty Hebrides! Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven Uneasily, from morn till even Around the misty Hebrides! Hebrides... “And I lay here on the rivage Of gloomy island’s barren earth I lay in slumber, age-old servage To tristy Goddess of love’s dearth…” |
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5. | Raven | 12:32 | Show lyrics |
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, O’er a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door Ah, distinctly I remember it’s in darkened bleak December; And pythonic dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore — This is all and nothing more Quoth the Raven “Nevermore” And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating ‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; I implore… Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wond’ring, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; Then this ebon bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, ‘Tis the wind and nothing more! Nothing more! Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door — Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore! Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wand’ring from the Nightly shore — Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore” Yeah, for we can’t help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Nevermore! Nevermore! Nevermore! But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered — Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before — As my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.” Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore — But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door...” Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this eerie bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and haunted bird of yore Meant in croaking “Nevermore.” This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee Respite, respite and nepenthe from thy mem’ries of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” «It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore — Is there, is there balm in Gilead? — tell me, tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!" Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore! Lenore! “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! — Prophet still, if bird or devil! — Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting — “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; Quoth the Raven “Nevermore” “I dreamed to see someday the poet, Who’s heart is ruby, awful-woed This piece of wisdom – his soul’s roar My hat is off to mr. Poe!” |
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6. | The Sleeper | 06:48 | Show lyrics |
At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapour, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly dripping, drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top, Steal drowsily and musically Into the universal grand valley The rosemary nods upon the grave; The lily lolls upon the wave; Wrapping fog about its breast, The ruin moulders into rest… Looking like Lethe, see! The lake! A conscious slumber seems to take, And would not, for the world, awake. All beauty sleeps! – And lo! Where lies Mary on highs This beauty dies… Anemones Of clemencies Oh, lady bright! Can it be right – The window open to the night? The wanton airs, from the tree-top, Laughingly through the lattice drop – The bodiless airs, a wizard rout, Flit through thy chamber in and out, And wave the curtain canopy So fitfully – so fearfully – Above the closed and fringéd lid ’Neath which thy slumb’ring soul lies hid, That, o’er the floor and down the wall, Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall! Anemones Of clemencies Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear? Why and what art thou dreaming here? Sure thou art come o’er far-off seas A wonder to these garden trees! Strange is thy pallor! Strange thy dress! Strange, above all, thy length of tress… Tress And this all solemn silentness! The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, Which is enduring, so be deep! Deep! Heaven have her in its sacred keep! This chamber changed for one more holy, This bed for one more melancholy (Melancholy…) Is it a mirth or a whole folly? I pray to God that she may lie Forever with unopened eye, While the pale sheeted ghosts go by! My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, As it is lasting, so be deep! Soft may the worms about her creep! Far in the forest, dim and old, For her may some tall vault unfold – Some vault that oft hath flung its black And wing’d panels’ fluttering back, Triumphant, o’er the crested palls, Of her grand kindred funerals - Some sepulchre, remote, alone, Against whose portal she hath thrown, In childhood, there’s an idle stone – Some tomb from out whose sounding door Thrilling to think, poor child of sin! It was the dead who groaned within… My friend! Take your staff, go wander through the valley, and in the longest night you shall fall into the deep eternal sleep… In this dream, try to see all the most beautiful and desirable that the soul yearns for centuries. Find happiness and truth in this unforgettable dream that gods give man only once! |
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7. | Spirits of the Dead | 04:48 | Show lyrics |
Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone — Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy Aye!! Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness — for then The spirits of the dead who stood In life before thee are again In death around thee — and their will Shall overshadow thee: be still The night, tho’ clear, light shall frown — And the stars shall look not down From their high thrones in the heaven, With light like Hope to mortals given But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish, Now are visions ne’er to vanish; From thy spirit shall they pass No more — like dew-drop from the grass The breeze — the breath of God — is still — And the mist upon the hill, How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone — Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy Aye!! Spirits of the Dead! Spirits of the Dead! Spirits of the Dead! The night, tho’ clear, light shall frown — And the stars shall look not down From their high thrones in the heaven, With light like Hope to mortals given — But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever. For ever… |
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8. | Annabel Lee | 06:29 | Show lyrics |
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me... …with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me! I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love — I and my Annabel Lee — (But we loved with a love that was more than love — I and my Annabel Lee —) With a love that the wing’d seraphim of Heaven Covetèd her and me... And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea... So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea! CHORUS: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my beautiful Annabel Lee; Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea — In her tomb by the sounding sea! My Annabel Lee… The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me — Yes! — That was the reason as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee!! And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee!!! |
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9. | A Dream Within a Dream | 03:08 | Show lyrics |
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You’re not wrong, who really deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is a dream within a dream… I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! Yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, Through my heart that beats so creep While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! Can I not save One from the ruthless wave? Is all we see or seem But a dream within a dream? But a dream within a dream… |
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53:40 |
Червь-победитель
Members | |
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Miscellaneous staff | |
Yury Chuchmay | Cover art |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Червь-победитель | 04:42 | Show lyrics |
Смотри! огни во мраке блещут (Ночь последних лет!). В театре ангелы трепещут, Глядя из тьмы на свет, Следя в слезах за пантомимой Лет и вечных бед. Как стон, звучит оркестр незримый: То — музыка планет... Актёров сонм, — подобье бога, — Бормочет, говорит, Туда, сюда летит с тревогой, — Мир кукольный, спешит. Безликий некто правит ими, Меняет сцены вид, И с кондоровых крыл, незримый, Проклятие струит. Нелепый фарс! — но невозможно Не помнить мимов тех, Что гонятся за Тенью, с ложной Надеждой на успех... "Salve Deus Magnus Vermis! Devoratrix nostrum cordis! Nos quaerere nam permis Ut sint servitori vobis!" ...И обегая круг напрасный, Идут назад, под смех! В нём ужас царствует, в нём властны Безумие и Грех. Но что за образ, весь кровавый, Меж мимами ползёт? За сцену тянутся суставы, Он движется вперёд, Всё дальше, — дальше, — пожирая Играющих, и вот Театр рыдает, созерцая В крови ужасный рот. "Gloria terrena dulcis Vermis-victum dedit nos Gloria amore fetus luce et tenebris, oh!" Но гаснет, гаснет свет упорный! Над трепетной толпой. Вниз занавес спадает чёрный, Как буря роковой. И ангелы, бледны и прямы, Кричат, плащ скинув свой, Что «Человек» — названье драмы, Что «Червь» — её герой! И демоны, кроваво-красны, Вершат суд горький свой, Что "Люди" - есть комедианты В комедии, где "Червь" - Король! |
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04:42 |
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