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Realm Of Frost


Band/Artist: Helgafell

Album: Landvaettir

The bitter grasp of primordial darkness,
a clutching winter's chill,
one of the nine, devoid of the sublime,
a harsh wind echoes a shrill,
beckoning mist upon frosted ground,
near where water yet flows through,
a realm of the frozen, where warmth meets corrosion,
is tightnened against a great root,

Bleak mountains house a stone ageless in form,
the trees serving as elders, stand untorn,
home for the sick and disnonoured, a frigid retreat,
a pinnacle of creation, the ice as a sheet,

the stream of hvergalmir at the rivers' source,
where cold finds its' birthplace, and grows its' force,
the skies bleak and clouded, erode the light,
an echo of harsh persistence, narrates the night,

Behold the bitter chill of the
northern plains of Niflheim,
the wrath of nordic blizzards
pierce what can be seen,
a veil of glacial shadow long covers this world,
an eternity of numbing continues to be unfurled,

In the human world, autumn makes it's rest,
the end of a season, smothered by frigid crest,
leaves fall in unison, never again to rise,
the calling voice of arctic plains reveal their size,
snow carpets land, turning soil to white,
beings begin to dwell beneath and out of sight,
life no longer thrives as nature once allowed,
a pledge now made, a season fades, a start of a new vow,

Smothered rivers, biting shivers, oak dead to the touch,
hidden roots, spoiled fruits, life held in a clutch,
paths once trodden, now forgotten, conceal a journey's truth,
all is still and bends to will, new growth is chained to youth.