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lyrics
Dark Autumn Rites
In agonal sighs of the dying-away October
The fire of a forest decline is reflected
In the melted gold of fallen leaves
Uneasy winds become colder, and shadows are extended
We're going to circle near the forest burial mounds
From there appearing the powerful shadows of the dead,
The patrons of our tribe and folk
And they require sacrifices, like fading forces of nature
We put before them the heads of the Roman soldiers,
Who slain druids and cut down the sacred groves
We share their flesh with the spirits of our ancestors
And sprinkle by their blood the cold autumn ground
We raise the bowls made of their skulls
And drink the blood of our fallen enemies,
Washing by it our faces and bodies
In the reflection of cold moon disk
We are holding hands, moving around in circle,
And our chants echoing in flattering thickets,
From where a lot of luminous eyes watching us
And spirits of our ancestors dance with us
Erased the line between the spirit world
And the living world in Samhain
From a wide circular stone altar rises
The swirling tall shadow with deer horns
In triumph he spreads his palms to the October night sky
And by his pointing finger, he dawns on us!
Great god of wild forest, Cernunnos, we greet you!
Veiled in darkness
You are who topped with deer horns,
Lord of the lower world,
Of forest, trees and beasts!
Praise to You!
supported by 11 fans who also own “Dark Autumn Rites”
Icelandic Pagan Black Metal. This is unbelievably good - seriously! I just bought the entire discography for this band & I keep coming back to every single one of their albums. They are all on another level! The instrumentals & the atmospheres are just amazing. Plus those vocals, clean or non or any other variation, are perfect each & every time! No faves & highly recommended!!! bmurator
The metal’s band revelatory new record crosses genres and styles, effortlessly combining seemingly incompatible subgenres. Bandcamp Album of the Day Apr 26, 2024
supported by 11 fans who also own “Dark Autumn Rites”
I'd say Havukruunu is the rightful holder of the Crown and the mantle of Quorthon. Epic choirs, vikingesque themes and tales from the other times, of the Finnish paganism back in the days before our ancestors were brought to the cross and forced to kneel while feeling the bloody sword of saviour on their throats made to kiss the hand of murderers who burnt thousands, tore down our holy places and took our holy days. Eyes teary I listen to these songs, never forgiving the crimes of the cross! Peikonmieli