My inspiration of the day...
I think today, i'd say, I.Ronove, a song from Toluca:
Translated Version~
I found myself here,
But not in a dark forest, how much I willed
There's nothing here,
And there never will be.
Dragging his rags after flocks, In the rush to water,
"We do not drink, and do not fall into the rest "
- rysitsa spoke,
Blocking me from passing.
There's nothing here,
And it never will be
And there is no me, there will never be.
Opening his eyes again -
have been seen shadows of the past.
Each trail cycles left in the bottom,
And after going through all the circles,
You see how all living things die alone.
The world is already dead,
Realize that you are the cause of his death - to become unbearable,
Realize that doing your work, all the faith and religion - had passed into the bowels of endothermicity
Paths swept and doctors - were accelerators.
I can hear the howling.
The howling emptiness
Repeating the laws of the Fallen:
"There is no hell worse than you are."
~Original Text~
,
, ,
,
.
,
,
" ,
" - ,
.
,
, .
- ,
,
,
, .
,
- ,
, -
, - .
,
,
:
" , ."
~Toulca
Another lyrical-bit that I greatly enjoy,
the words being in no small part, a strong influence on
some of my more recent writing.
~The Word For World Is, "Forest"
...For mass graves of women clad in black robes.
...For slavery of children stolen from homes.
...For communes of feminists burned at the stake
your children are pissed, our minds are awake.
My voice becomes a weapon.
Send in your armies. Stability.
The objective reason promotes their dreams,
of all life in subservience to their will.
A cross marks the memory of those who rebel.
My voice becomes a weapon.
The Father-Tongue steals and deceives,
grasping for power we stay on our knees.
All wild imprisoned, all children and trees,
cell blocks of orders spread the disease.
The banners of multitudes soon disappear,
their lasguns and chemicals perfected each year.
From pulpits of penises they sing their praise,
their words enslave, but we know their name.
Demeaning all other voices, white knights witch hunt the galaxy.
Silver space ships. Onward soldiers! For the church's misogyny!
Crosses planted on each planet, but our coven shall be free.
When our voices become weapons, no longer shall their words divide.
When their voice is hushed to whispers, the wild forest will arise.
-Swordmasters of Ginaz