1. |
Funeral
01:22
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2. |
Moonlight
05:16
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|
The moon was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.
Her forehead is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.
Her lips of amber never part;
But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow
Were such her silver will!
And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your twinkling door.
Her bonnet is the firmament,
The universe her shoe,
The stars the trinkets at her belt,
Her dimities of blue.
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3. |
Wind
03:58
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|
Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That phraseless melody
The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.
When winds go round and round in bands,
And thrum upon the door,
And birds take places overhead,
To bear them orchestra,
I crave him grace, of summer boughs,
If such an outcast be,
He never heard that fleshless chant
Rise solemn in the tree,
As if some caravan of sound
On deserts, in the sky,
Had broken rank,
Then knit, and passed
In seamless company.
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4. |
The Lovers
05:21
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|
The rose did caper on her cheek,
Her bodice rose and fell,
Her pretty speech, like drunken men,
Did stagger pitiful.
Her fingers fumbled at her work, --
Her needle would not go;
What ailed so smart a little maid
It puzzled me to know,
Till opposite I spied a cheek
That bore another rose;
Just opposite, another speech
That like the drunkard goes;
A vest that, like the bodice, danced
To the immortal tune, --
Till those two troubled little clocks
Ticked softly into one.
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5. |
The Martyrs
06:12
|
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|
The moon was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.
Her forehead is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.
Her lips of amber never part;
But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow
Were such her silver will!
And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your twinkling door.
Her bonnet is the firmament,
The universe her shoe,
The stars the trinkets at her belt,
Her dimities of blue.
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6. |
||||
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The farthest Thunder that I heard
Was nearer than the Sky
And rumbles still, though torrid Noons
Have lain their missiles by —
The Lightning that preceded it
Struck no one but myself —
But I would not exchange the Bolt
For all the rest of Life —
Indebtedness to Oxygen
The Happy may repay,
But not the obligation
To Electricity —
It founds the Homes and decks the Days
And every clamor bright
Is but the gleam concomitant
Of that waylaying Light —
The Thought is quiet as a Flake —
A Crash without a Sound,
How Life's reverberation
Its Explanation found —
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7. |
Void
01:14
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Micarlla II Mexico
Symphonic Black Metal project by Victoria Carmilla H.
Micarlla II recommends:
Evanescencia
by Cantodea Dianthus
Cantodea Dianthus
go to album
Noche azul
by Oculi Melancholiarum
Oculi Melancholiarum
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AIAA 7
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supported by 6 fans who also own “The Martyrs”
NONE a opéré un virage dans Where Life Should Be et ça se confirme davantage dans Damp Chill of Life. Le temps des métaphores est révolu : l'humidité froide, c'est celle des larmes qui coulent sur le visage à cause de la dépression. Tout pleure dans cet album : les guitares typées DSBM grésillent, les solos ("The Damp Chill of Life", "It's Painless To Let Go") sont liquides et coulent, les voix prennent à la gorge ; même le piano, étranglé par les sanglots ("Cease"), est aphone. Insoutenable...
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supported by 6 fans who also own “The Martyrs”
very touching and unique black metal, love it!
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Wind, Breeze, or Breath
by STARER
Another scorcher from the phenomenal one-man black metal outfit STARER, with mind-flaying riffs and eerie tremolo-picked melodies.
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