1. |
Welcome to Woolpit
03:19
|
|||
|
WELCOME TO WOOLPIT
By Yule
Deux Enfants étrangement vêtus,
Errent à la tombée du soir.
Ils avancent à pas de loup,
Le regard effrayé.
Main dans la main,
Ils vont traverser
Le champ des Hommes.
Guidés par un son lointain,
Verdoyants, ils avancent...
Bienvenue à Woolpit,
Mes chers petits !
|
||||
2. |
A Dream
03:27
|
|||
|
A Dream
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE
In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed—
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream—that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar—
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?
|
||||
3. |
The Kingdom of Mortals
03:26
|
|||
|
THE KINGDOM OF MORTALS
By Vy
They go to the kingdom,
They go to the kingdom,
They go to the kingdom,
Of mortals !
|
||||
4. |
Claim to the Land
05:03
|
|||
|
Amergin, Bard of the Milesians, lays claim to the Land of Ireland
I am a stag: of seven tines,
I am a flood: across a plain,
I am a wind: on a deep lake,
I am a tear: the Sun lets fall,
I am a hawk: above the cliff,
I am a thorn: beneath the nail,
I am a wonder: among flowers,
I am a wizard: who but I
Sets the cool head aflame with smoke?
I am a spear: that roars for blood,
I am a salmon: in a pool,
I am a lure: from paradise,
I am a hill: where poets walk,
I am a boar: ruthless and red,
I am a breaker: threatening doom,
I am a tide: that drags to death,
I am an infant: who but I
Peeps from the unhewn dolmen, arch?
I am the womb: of every holt,
I am the blaze: on every hill,
I am the queen: of every hive,
I am the shield: for every head,
I am the tomb: of every hope.
Song of Amergin translated by Robert Graves, from The White Goddess
|
||||
5. |
What Kind of Bells ?
02:39
|
|||
|
WHAT KIND OF BELLS ?
Inspired by W.B.Yeats
There was a green branch
hung with many a bell
When her own people
ruled this tragic «Land»
And from its murmuring greenness,
Calm of faery,
A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell.
Quels genres de cloches?
Quels genres de cloches
Peuvent m’appeler?
Gay bells or sad,
They bring you memories
Of half-forgotten innocent old places…
|
||||
6. |
The Rose of Battle
04:26
|
|||
|
THE BATTLE OF ROSE
inspired by W.B. Yeats
Turn if you may from battles never done
Danger no refuge holds, and war no peace,
For him who hears love sing and never cease,
Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:
But gather all for whom no love hath made
A woven silence, or but came to cast
A song into the air, and singing passed
To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you
Who have sought more than is in rain or dew,
Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,
Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth,
Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips,
And wage God's battles in the long grey ships.
The sad, the lonely, the insatiable,
To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;
God's bell has claimed them by the little cry
Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.
Turn if you may from battles never done
|
||||
7. |
Our Gibberish
03:52
|
|||
|
OUR GIBBERISH
By Vy
We have no queens, we have no Kings.
We are the naming of all things.
We are the words before the tongue,
We are the pulse before the song!
We are the fall in to the blank page,
We are the birds out of your cage.
We are the clouds before the rain,
We are the spark before the flame!
We are reptilians,we are elves,
We are ghosts or something else.
We come from a forgotten age,
Can you understand our langage?
Lalalalalala!
Can you understand my langage?
I come from a forgotten age!
Before the wolrd we were here…
Before your race came to destroy
All the heaven’s grace.
Before your race destroy all the dreams.
Before your reason destroys my mysteries,
Before your science destroys everything...
Lalalalalala!
I wish you could understand
Our gibberish !
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
OPEN THE DOOR TO THE WOLF
By Vy
Open the door to the wolf
Little faeries,little faeries,
Hidden in the souls,
Of children, of children
The wolf is only bad
Because of hunger,
Because of hunger...
Open the door to the wolf
little faeries, little faeries
Hidden in the souls
Of our parents, of our parents,
Who suffer to much when
Man is a wolf to,
Man is a wolf to man...
Open the door to the wolf
Little faeries,little faeries
Hidden in the souls,
In the forests, where we can rest,
where we can rest…
Open the door to the wolf
Little faeries, little faeries
The wolf only bites death
Wich hovers over men
|
||||
9. |
Le Champs des étoiles
01:21
|
|||
|
LE CHAMP DES ÉTOILES
By Yule
Quand les bourgeons deviennent des fleurs
Et que ces fleurs sont cueillies,
C’est la mort qui tient la main de la vie.
Mais quand les blés sont coupés,
Frappés par la faucille et le fléau
Du moissonneur,
C’est la vie qui tient la main de la mort.
Dans le champ des étoiles,
C’est une victoire qui proclame
L’entente féconde
De la terre et de l’homme dans
Leur commun effort.
Toute bonne récolte est le travail
De la lumière et de l’ombre,
Et les enfants sont comme ces fruits radieux,
Ils sont le manifeste de cette alchimie
Du sol et des cieux.
Mais qui pourra les cueillir ?
Qui ?
|
||||
10. |
La Ronde des Fèves
03:28
|
|||
|
LA RONDE DES FÈVES
By Vy
Je,
Je viens d’un pays
où le soleil ne brille pas.
Je,
Je viens pas à pas tout contre toi,
me réchauffer le corps !
Mais n’aie pas peur de moi je suis comme toi,
Qui ne revient pas des morts.
Je viens d’un pays où le brouillard est étouffant...
Je viens d’un pays que l’on appelle le crépuscule !
C’est six pieds sous terre,six pieds sous mer,
Six pieds sur ciel !
Je viens d’une bulle qui se nourrit
De quelques fèves.
Tu crois que je suis un enfant,
Tu me vois comme ça, ma soeur et moi.
Nous ne sommes pas nés du mystère:
Mon père, ma mère sont ignorants.
Je viens d’un pays,
Où l’on ne cueille que des fèves.
Je viens d’un pays
Où les petits veillent les moutons.
Je suis comme un ange qui veille sur les rêves,
Mais vois-nous comme des elfes
Qui veillent sur les sèves !
|
||||
Swesor Bhrater France
Hailing from the South of France, Victor-Yann began writing and composing music in the early 2000s. Passionate about
romantic poetry and occult music, especially the underground culture of the 1980s, his artistic and musical journey was also deeply influenced by the work of his elder brother Alaxis Andreas G.(le syndicat electronique) with whom he collaborated on
a number of projects.
... more
Swesor Bhrater recommends:
Sommer Im Pfirsichhain
by Brannten Schnüre
Dark Folk really Weird ! Unique atmosphere !
go to albumIf you like Swesor Bhrater, you may also like:
LÉSION FRANÇAISE
by Lésion Française
supported by 14 fans who also own “Green Children”
verySpecial undergroundPostPunk, manyFavorites...
go to album
Les Chants du Prépuscule
by Lésion Française
supported by 14 fans who also own “Green Children”
go to album
She's Gone
by S.A.D (Sudden Axis Disorder)
Dark post-punk with irresistible melodies, big synth washes, and punchy rhythms, designed for the modern goth club dancefloor.
go to album
The Toronto garage outfit embraces industrial clatter and the tension inherent in isolation.
go to album
