Songs of Beruthiel

Melkor's Widow

    (2003, pour dame N.)

    Drinking the cup of bitterness,
    With scorn you cursed words of frailness :
    The ways of mankind’s world are mean.
    They all feign and pretend - in vain.

    The days of thy age are at pain,
    And dark is the lord of thy dreams
    But still the obsidian throne stands,
    Iron and stone over these lands.

    Melkor’s widow, at her window
    Under monolithic shadows,
    Shall once again embrace her throne ;
    In that place where all souls are thrown.

    Never to know darkness alone :
    Let her wield the blade, wear her crown
    For the obsidian throne stands still
    While she recovers her lost will.

Coming of the Night

    Night cometh...

    Alas! My winged father smiles, standing in his lair,
    The Olde Wyrm of Elder Days doth his faith prepare:
    He looketh once more to the heaven, seeking the light
    Hearing the whispers of his own inner voice in delight.
    All dreams come to end, myth doth not taste as afore.
    Why were those songs made in the sweetness of yore,
    If they're sent now into the abyss of a darkened faith?

    Night cometh...

    Alas! The stars are turning dim in his melancholic sore,
    For the Olde Wyrm of Elder Days hath now closed the Door
    Of the City and to sleep on his wounded side he doth lean
    Night hath come on these lands but in dream yet unseen.
    Nevermore shall he fly over the twisted roads of Faery
    'Cause his old dreams have set him back from humility
    And all his words lead to the same failure in Faith.

    Night cometh...

    Under a mournful moon, flowers and trees lost in silence,
    At last he considers his allegiance or old acquaintance,
    Opens wide eyes on the real world herein and its lure
    Of his ruin doth his childish soul take the measure.
    For what else was he than a mere child without blame?
    Adieu! Beloved legends, sole to remember their shame,
    The time has ever passed to set the world in flame.
    He sighs, no longer waiting for a face with no name.

    Night.

Demonic dreams

    Horned demon,
    Mourning for salvation,
          I was wounded....
    Bleeding to death in thy sacred hall,
    And the forbidden fluid was flowing,
    Spilt upon the reddened floor of thy palace –
    Without hope, I let an uncounted time pass...
    
    And frail as a fay, for I felt in disgrace,
    While I was choking, gasping for breath.
    In mockery thou laughed at my face...
    Still I stayed silent, weeping after death,
    Bound by an oath sworn long ago,
    With the memory of my youth in echo.

    Winged demon,
    Yearning for redemption,
          I was wounded...
    Hence I took the cup and drank it all,
    And the forbidden fluid was flowing,
    Filling my veins with the poison of a lass –
    Without passion, I followed a deadly path...

    And frail as a fay, for I felt in disgrace,
    While I was choking, gasping for breath.
    In mockery thou laughed at my face.
    Still I stayed silent, weeping after death,
    Bound by an oath sworn long ago,
    With the memory of my youth in echo.

    Chyle flows in my veins so slow,
         Saddened by years uncountable,
    Horns grow painfully on my brow
    Ichor runs in my heart by now,
         Calling for a thirst unquenchable.
    And my wings I deploy as I bow.
         As I turn my gaze toward the mirror,
         I behold thy face, trembling in terror...
    For she felt in disgrace, the maid
         Whom you once embraced.

Ode to an Empress

This song is an ode to an Empress... inspired by obscure visions before the Altar of Madness.

    I hear...
    Hushed whispers
    In darkened halls –
    The worms writhe in agony
    Silently mourning for an elegy.

    I fear...
    Hushed whispers
    Beyond blind walls –
    The worms weep in misery
    Silently bleeding in poliphony.

    Behold...
    A faceless empress
    Has risen with hundrefold names –
    Shall my soul be consumed in her flames ?

    Behold...
    An infinite darkness
    Kneels before the curves of chaos –
    Shall my song be woven in her cantos ?

    Praise Heryn Vorn, for aeons uncounted –
    Our dreams desecrated,
    Praise the Empress, for aeons undefied –
    Her deadly doom denied.

    The frailness of the flesh –
    A fragile fragrance of foulness
    Flows in thy unholy veins...
    The frailness of the flesh –
    The winsomeness of darkness
    Summoning eternal pains.

    O withered flower of hellebore
    Thou speakest of secret seals, nightshade –
    And the nested signs shine as jewels in thine eyes
    Whereby myths are entangled in their lies.

    O empress adorned in splendor
    Thou holdest the bloodstained blade –
    And the nested signs are carven upon thine arms
    Whereby legends are bound by enchanted charms.

    Praise Heryn Vorn, for aeons uncounted –
    Our dreams desecrated,
    Praise the Empress, for aeons undefied –
    Her deadly doom denied.

    Unborn Beruthiel is but a pallid poetess –
    I failed to find the words of worthless worship,
    And now I feel as a foulbrood under thine altar –
    Forgive the fallen, unable to catch the signs afar.

    Pray now... or be the prey.

Ode to the (Daughter of the) Moon

    Lost in dreadful lairs in darkened lands
    To the moon in despair I raised my hands
    And She, the daughter of Tilion the fair
    A white-clad lady adorned in her majesty
    With sparks of silver in her netted hair
    Came in glory, a faery's fay of pure beauty.

    I cried ashamed under her gaze so bright
    I looked amazed and kneeled in her light
    – In my face the sweetness of her breath
    On my neck as a lace the caress of her tress –
    Her voice of crystal calmly led me to a city
    Out of wounds lethal neither hungry nor thirsty.

    O delightful sphere of our deepest dreams
    The moon as a mother had heard my screams
    Under the opalescent orb of an elven goddess
    For She, white lady clad in shining eternity
    Came in glory, a faery's fay of pure beauty,
    Bless the magnificient Isilwende, our empress.

Dragonrise

    Dragonrise
    One thousand years to wait,
    An aeon to unveil the oaths of yore,
    But the time of thy awakening hath come
    As the poetess shall release thee.

    Quoth the Ineffable,
    « O come hither in this frozen realm dying,
    Where winter-winds breathe upon the soldiers slain,
    And the Lord of Mist taketh thy corpse under his wings
    To the ancient and sacred shrines of wisdom arcane.
    Say what your heart commands and I shall obey. »

    Dragonrise
    One thousand years to deplore
    A millenium doomed to open the gates
    At last the time of the release hath come
    In return you shall set the poetess free.

    Quoth the Ineffable
    « Of dawn verily thou wert the goddess,
    And I will regret your brilliance Elleth of Elfinesse.
    The Lord of Mist awaketh from waning dreams lethal
    And he shall take your life if thou be’st not immortal.
    Entrust me and say your longings without delay. »

    Now hearken to my cries –
    Shan’t the Sun be bleeding
    Under bleak horizons?
    At last for my demise
    He'll sink under oceans reddened,
    In apocalyptic dreams perverted.

    And hearken to my rhymes –
    Shan’t the Moon be breeding
    Shapes of night-demons?
    Respecting her promise
    She'll summon the beast of nightmare
    From the abyssal depths of despair

    Ouroboros
    Wyrm of Chaos
    Serpentine soul of uttermost sadness
    I invoke thee now in my madness –
    Obey to the words of our ancient oath

    Quoth the Ineffable
    « So shall it be at your request,
    O sorrowful elven maid
    That what I did as a mere jest
    Shall be at last unmade »

    Ouroboros
    Wyrm of Chaos
    Standing in thy labyrinthine sanctuary
    I command thee to seal my destiny –
    Obey to the words of our ancient troth

    Quoth the Ineffable
    « Now that the Dragon has risen late
    You must prepare to accept your fate. »

Sign in the stars

    A swan-shaped ship has reached the shores
    And she stands still in the elven grey havens...
    Washed by the surf, reopening your old sores
    And by ancient summons, you long for heaven...

    Sinking into oblivion –
    Hearest thou the call of the wind my dark lady ?
    Oh my, losing your vision –
    Steeping yourself in the twisted threads of destiny...

    Dreaming of delusions –
    All theses sparkles mirrored in thy dark eyes...
    Tainted in contradictions –
    I wonder what they reflect, star-spangled skies ?

    While other elves sing under the starry night,
    A chorus of creation without word for the twilight...
    You wait for the signs of an invisible star-eater,
    An irrestible call to destruction, delution in despair...

    And I say the truth,
    Hidden just behind your soul...
        No one wishes thee well here –
    Aye, flee away little butterfly, believe your instinct.
        For no one awaits thee here –
    Aye, follow the moon crescent until it falls, extinct.

    How long will you stand on the pier –
    A foot in the sea, is it the place where you belong ?
    How long will you endure your fear –
    The other grounded on earth, is it where you belong ?

    You resist the truth,
    With all the strength of your soul...
        But there are still hopes of joy –
    Nay, please remain little butterfly, believe your body.
        For a mighty star wishes thy joy –
    Nay, enjoy the flames of the sun fore its fall, sweetie.

    The ointment in his words will make you stay –
    Will he still wait for thee, the heir of Dairon ?
    Poetry renewed, shall day and night be led astray –
    Will he still wait for thee, of Maglor the son ?

    A swan-shaped ship has reached the shores
    And she stands still in the elven grey havens...
    Washed by the surf, reopening your old sores
    And by ancient summons, you long for heaven...

    A draught in the vessel of time –
    A glimpse of eternity revealed...
    Love adorned in enchanted rhymes –
    And the ultimate truth unsealed...

Calembel's night

    Silence for a time, mortals without foresight!
    Minstrels will sing the secrets of our hearts,
    Hopes of utopia defended with broken wings,
    And they will hear the whispers in the abyss
    The calls of draconian odes summoning bliss.

        Of all unfair deities rejecting the inane blames
        In the circle he stood, raised against thy throne
        Anger was growing in his heart as bright flames,
        In the remembrance of the jewels that once shone...
        The father of thy father, of thy strength the source.

        Driven far into the realms of mist and lost aside
        Beyond the circle he stood facing the outer wall,
        And the weeping goddess opened her window wide
        Mourning for him on her cheek she let a tear fall...
        The soul of my soul, of my own myth the offspring.

    Silence for a time, mortals without foresight!
    Minstrels will now sing the secrets of our hearts,
    Dreams of utopia defended with broken wings,
    Ashes of our deceived hopes, ruins of the past
    Grasping the clepsydra that flees all too fast.

        Lost in the deep abyss of thy mythical essence
        Wherein all my dreams lost their innocence
        I saw the reflections of my eternal grievance
        Against ineluctable fates that convey nonsense.

            Forbidden insights
            Of endless fights –
            Let darkness rises
            Under starless skies !

    Days after days youth as a candle corpse is gone
    Aren't echoes of legends now lost, and I alone...
    And days after days a high city was built of stone
    Its destruction will take one night, and you alone...
    So let's fly one last time over the lands in wonder
    Dying under a bleeding sun, and we alone together –
    In a song our memories and our voices united forever.