Ural Twilight Autumnalias (1995)

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SORCERY / INSEPARABLE STORY

In a foggy shroud of dreams 
In a precious counterpane 
Is the ancient spirit grey Ural. 
Lulled beautiful [bad word] gods 
Are in these mountains. 
Among moss — grown blocks 
Are cries of pain and triumph 
Will be remained in rock forever. 
Only sticky blood won't leave sign, 
In a deep of gems is one's hot now. 
To a look for the last time 
At severe dread low sky,  [bad word] stone with soul. 
To wander in cold hall, 
To roam in gloomy ice 
Among illusory emerald's fire. 

Under mountain in hall is my malachite throne, 
And chains of heavy copper dre. 
Under wood curtain are the grave rest, 
Autumn fire, mournful gloom at the [bad word]  

Not cosy, quet, tired feast of souls  [bad word] out from mossy rotten halls. 
Decaying glare of faded eyes, 
Chilly rippling shadows,  [bad word] of foliage is voice. 
Their fate is roaming [bad word] back into thicket, 
I leave a soul's piece in forest for the killed. 
In the purple woods is my pine throne, 
And wings of clear pure miss. 
I won't reach swampy singing meadows, 
I won't be crawned with the wreath 
Of radiant flowers and shining grass.