THALARION LYRICS

1. Cold Waters Of Turbulent Torrents

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo: "I describe the beauty and majesty of the Slovak mountains, honour to our ancestors who haunted and fought in those mountains. It's beautiful to walk the ground the proud Slavic warriors walked upon, before millennium, defenders of ancient pagan faith and this revives a symbolic memories hidden in all of us. I tried with help of this song to revive these memories."]

I arose ... I materialized.
From cold waters of turbulent torrents.
In a rain of eternal drops.
Through the mist and haze.
Into the new dimension.

Black forest is the where I was born.
In the sign of an ancient kind.
My life seems to be so empty, forlorn.
And beguiling visions I cannot bind.

Ancient Slavic rite of the vernal equinox.

Narcotic smell of the native ground.
Spreads through the valley never found.
Whispering moon in the blackened sky.
Embracing my soul with the silverblack dawn.

Above the horizons.
The pagan winds of eternal winter blow.
Under the highest mountain.
Where the bones of my ancestors rest.
Under the blanket of freezing snow.
Where evil sunbeams do not shine.
I burn the ancient bones.
I blow their ancient dust.
With a squall in my hands.
I am a new disciple of a rain eternal.
With a squall in my hands.
I am a new follower of Perun's voice of power.

2. A Herald Of Sorrow & Wretchedness

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo: "Here I used a lot of metaphors and comparisons, but the lyric describe the meaningless devastation of our natural wealth, the Tatras, interventions in their natural course in general. Where is the simple clear virginity of the Tatras being here before the centuries? The lyric says: "Trees cry in my arms, dry, with no splendour, delight has forever gone..."]

Wicked clouds over my head.
They are greedy as the pressure of time.
A life-potion has spilt, all is dead.
Like a light of the immense eternity.
Embracing my last will, blood is my bread.

My words are the pictures.
The pictures of my sorrow.
Floating in the raptures.
Incessant raptures that I follow.

My muse is so huge, but not serene.
As the haze in the ancient woods.
As the grangeur of the Tatras.
As the endless sidereal time.
Penetrating through my mind.
And the loveliness of pleasure I can't find.

I hold the key to the enigmatic gate.
As I pass through my life to dream.
To discover the secret clutches of fate.
And listen to the silent waterstream.

Trees cry in my arms.
Dry with no splendour.
Delight has forever gone.
Bloody dawn torn by the thunder.

I am element of neverending light.
But I am also the element of the night.
I fan the fires burning all the happiness.
I am a herald of sorrow and wretchedness.

3. A More Than Fiendish Malevolence

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo: "This text harmonizes with feelings of misanthropy, it's the real image of my mind when I was disappointed and frustrated from everybody and everything and I had a whiles when I was able to kill a man by a little impulse. It's very personal lyric saying about misanthropic states of my mind".]

If tomorrow I die, today I would unburden my soul.
I grew day by day, more moody, more irritable.
More regardless of the feelings of others.
But I soon found a dislike to everyone arising within me.

By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance.
Rose into the bitterness and hatred.
The fury of a demon possessed me, I knew myself no longer.
For months I could not rid myself of the phantasm.

Beneath the pressure of torments such as these.
The feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed.
Evil thoughts became my sole intimates.
The darkest and most evil thoughts.

A more than fiendish malevolence.
Thrilled every fibre of my frame.
But it was only a feeble feeling.
And the soul remained untouched.

If tomorrow I die, today I would unburden my soul.
I grew day by day, more moody, more irritable.
More regardless of the feelings of others.
But I soon found a dislike to everyone arising within me.

A more than fiendish malevolence.
Thrilled every fibre of my frame.
But it was only a feeble feeling.
And the soul remained untouched.

4. Icon Of Hopelessness

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo: "Very sad song with permanently repeating riffs saying about a man whose nearest relative dies right before his eyes on the cruel disease, he disappears, grows old day by day. Life energy leaves his body but sadness remains. Odd are the ways of destiny somewhere in the endless desire for life".]

I see the sorrow in your eyes.
Depressed pain of your heart.
In captivity of passion's flames.
I lose myself within your dream.

Lonely are the tears of sadness.
Anguish of emotions corrodes me.
Before my doom I stand alone.
Full of retrospections.

Darkness...
Odd are the ways of destiny.
Somewhere in the endless desire.
Between the life and death.
Where the clear fire awaits.
Depraved by the will of irony.
I become the slave of solitude.
Before the gates of eternal darkness.
I wait in grief for the suffering.

Can?t you see my pain?
Don?t you know my end?
It?s right before you.
And heartbreak is reviving again.

Staying in a vicious circle.
Leaving my life with a crystal clear mind.
Sentenced to perpetual dimness.
I lose myself within your dream.
Depraved by the will of irony.
I become the slave of solitude.
Before the gates of eternal darkness.
I wait in grief for the suffering.

I see the light going out in your eyes.
The face turning into the autumn.
I see the sorrow in your eyes.
Depressed pain of your heart.
In the depths of the black shades.
I'll be dwelling once and for all.
Like an icon of hopelessness.
Where I shall die alone... forever.

5. Almost Forgotten Empire

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo & Nela Horvathova: "The song that celebrates carelessness. The vision of fictional people who symbolize it. An ancient imaginary culture that lived simply and whose troubles were also simple. They didn't know a lot and didn't need a lot, therefore they feared more. I would like to be like them - careless and easy. That is what I miss".]

There they lived fortunate and alone.
Beyond the stonewalls of merciless time.
They drank the water from the fount of wisdom.
And felt the whiff of the ancient spirits.

The wind was rustling among the time-honoured oaks.
Whispering the sacrosanct song of their lives.
Prophecy of a distant future so unimaginable.
Hovered over their breezy head, their breezy head.

So there they lived fortunate and alone.
Under the triumphs of endless night.
That gave them sensation of beautiful fear.
A fear that never passed away.

Ancient Slavic rite to the glory of Perun.

And on every night during the glamorous time.
They lit the stars that have already burnt out.
Lanterns of ages lost in the darkness.
Mirrors of time broken to pieces.

So there they lived fortunate and alone.
Under the triumphs of endless night.
That gave them sensation of beautiful fear.
A fear that never passed away.

6. Where The Sloes Mature

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo & Nela Horvathova: "The sloes are a symbol of bitterness. After eating them, your tongue shrivels and becomes insensitive for a while. Such is a mood of this song. Dreamy land full of snares and the threat hanging above it. Endless life journey".]

A narrow path full of thorns.
Carefully you lift your legs tired.
So as not to be wounded.
Green sky above your pensive head.
It seems that perhaps it will rain.
The sun vanished long ago.
The end is not yet in sight.
And you stray over and over again.

Diamond swords in the crowns of trees.
Glittering with their magnificent blades.
They are falling down to your feet.
A path covered with poisoned fruit.
They are sour like all your life.
This way could be perilous.

Where the sloes mature.
A sad bequest awaits you.
Where the sour sloes mature.
Your will is dying in you.

Contours of hills in the distance.
You are waving to them with a scarf.
You have trod on the bad luck.
A warm fluid will feed the ground.
It will be drinking, so dry and thirsty.
A potion that can donate a life.

Where the sloes mature.
A sad bequest awaits you.
Where the sour sloes mature.
Your will is dying in you.

Just a red stream of your blood.
Flows into the deepness of the chasm.
Just a red stream of your blood.
Feeds the dry and thirsty ground.

Where the sloes mature.
A sad bequest awaits you.
Where the sour sloes mature.
Your will is dying in you.

7. Carnival

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo & Nela Horvathova: "Nature scenery again. Majestic darkness full of mysteries. Darkness brings fear that forces people to wear the masks to hide their fear. After the new day comming they put them aside".]

Sombre is a nightsky without stars.
That refresh our bygone memories.
Like a veiled mirror that doesn't reflect our face.
And we cannot see ourselves.

A watchful eye observes us from the high.
We feel this penetrating dradful look.
It chills and also burns at once.
And we are suddenly growing numb.

We all hide our fears under the masks of different feelings.
We all are just scarecrows in masquerades of this world.

The moon set beyond the ancient poplars.
The dusk embraced a smudged world.
Frosty winds made our bones cold.
We feel the fearful splendour of the night.

We all hide our fear under the masks of different feelings.
We all wear the features we?ve never been able to obrain.

A new day has come, it dawns.
And all the night phantoms turn pale.
Our fears disappeared, we take off our masks.
This is the end of the night fairy tale.

8. A Staircase To My Soul

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo & Nela Horvathova: "This lyrics is more optimistic. I must have been in a good mood at that time, I don't remember. It is hard to say what it meant for me when I wrote it, because my feelings changes. It obviously contains some healing elements".]

The bliss has descended from the skies torn.
Along with beneficial autumn drizzle.
It brought a scent of obsolete recollections.
And grieved me somewhat.

Dense drops of rain hissed as they fell.
Then evaporated and faded into the atmosphere.
Like my own memories vanished long ago.
That emerge with any following rain.

But now I am fortunate because the bliss came to me.
From the high distances of the azure clouds.
It effaced the scars arising after the frusrtations.
And healed my soul up.

Shapeless flowers are blooming in heavens.
Each of them reminds me the one part of my life.
They used to fade before they blossomed.
But now they turn pale and all bad is gone.

The bliss has descended from the skies torn.
Along with beneficial autumn drizzle.
It brought a scent of obsolete recollections.
And grieved me somewhat.

Shapeless flowers are blooming in heavens.
Each of them reminds me the one part of my life.
They used to fade before they blossomed.
But now they turn pale and all bad is gone.

9. In April We Wept

[Instrumental]

[A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo & Nela Horvathova: "The instrumental song dedicated to the loving memory on the deceased mother of the Schlossers' brothers, who died after long and hard disease in April of 1999".]







THALARION LYRICS