SERBAN VALENTIN CONSTANTIN ENACHE — AN EMPIRE OF TRAITORS — 2014
Welcome to and into the phenomenal and absolutely perverse and mesmerizing mental world of the deranged universe in some tamed version of which we are living, willy-nilly, more nilly than willy, and enjoying every single minute spent in it. Sharpen your attention and concentrate your vision because there is no way for you to get through these pages, these strange territories, these unwelcoming imperial lands if you miss one single sentence because the network of this writing does not authorize one single loop to give way. That’s what makes this novel difficult to the reader: there is no way we can speed up the reading, skip a page, or even a sentence. The language is both absolutely functional (nothing lost on vain and useless descriptions) and so dense you cannot play around with the punctuation or the adverbs. Every single word is meaningful and none is superfluous decoration.
So if you are ready to go into that forest of a corrugated imagination you might be rewarded with some good moments of pleasure if not bliss. I do not intend to tell you the story but to give you some tools to guide you — or rather pull you — through the brambles around the castle and maybe enable you to reach the bed of the Sleeping Beauty who is, in fact, no princess at all but maybe the true heart of humanity.
The first thing you must understand is that this territory that does not have a map is composed of various contradictory if not antagonistic pieces. You have the Empire itself composed of five territories: The Northlands, the Westlands, the Southlands, the Eastlands, and the Streamlands, hence the quincunx so famous in Maya culture and mythology: the four cardinal points plus the center that is, in fact, an axis with a celestial zenith and an underworld nadir. Each section is itself complex because they are feudal territories, which means they are more or less controlled by one noble house but they are composed of a network of smaller feudal houses and families all connected by some fealty oath to be pronounced on one’s knees in front of the superior lord. But these oaths do not seem to be based on much honor and have much strength since they are systematically betrayed and broken by practically everyone.
This world is dominated by a few houses or families represented by some banners or emblems. The Northlands are controlled by The Sodomis house in Weiyenor, represented by a ram with fiery hooves. The Westlands are controlled by the Blackways house, the black Knights of Rogfort and are represented by a warhorse. The Southlands do not seem to be really controlled by anyone because they are various houses all pulling and pushing in different directions, traitors by definition. The Eastlands are controlled but the Verwick House in Findar’s Keep and are represented by a dolphin. The Streamlands are represented by the Mandon house at Rivermark for nearly the whole novel but this family loses this privilege at the end. They are represented by a hawk. Some other families are crucial, especially either by their cruelty or by their treacherous nature. Tobias Findley represented by a dog-headed serpent at Stoneweed is an epitome of violence and barbarity. The House Bellworth is represented by a grey griffin. The House of Reed is represented by a blazing star grass. The House of Wolfgar is represented by a sanguineous sword. The House of Merrick is represented by three stars and a Crescent Moon. Those seem to be the main houses, apart from the Imperial house, the Mero family. If I have made mistakes do not hesitate to tell me and even vindicate my incompetence. You will discover all by yourself the Tychos family, Lords of Ironmoat.
The novel, or saga, starts some five years or so after the civil war and the death of the tyrant Zygar Ferus Mero. The elder son, Amarius Seronius Mero, was made emperor for a short while but he was accused by his younger brother, Hagyian Rovines Mero, of embezzling, excessive power, etc., and was arrested declared guilty and banished into exile. When the action starts the elder brother is living in Harpool, an outside territory that is built on the existence and trade of slaves. The younger brother is the acting emperor, but he has lost contact with his people and is completely out of touch, ready to fall like some over-ripe if not rotten fruit. We have to add that the civil war was against the tyrant we have mentioned, father of the emperor and his exiled brother, but with what is called the Inquisition on their side. After the victory, Amarius Seronius Mero got rid of the Inquisition but kept the two clerical orders, the Patriarchy and the Matriarchy. The last element to know at the beginning is the existence of a distant territory beyond a vast sand desert occupied by some free savages that seem to be living like some Northern American Indians before the arrival of Christopher Columbus. The desert is the territory occupied by some “wyverns” that are enormous worms or snakes living underground in the sand, voracious and attacking anything alive. The allusion to Dune’s sandworms is not even hidden. It is obvious and the savages who are red-skinned and called Aharo are very close to Dune’s Fremen. The term “wyvern” could be understood as the Celtic wyver but that would be a mistake/. The wyver that might be connected to the root of “viper” is not per se a serpent in Celtic culture. It is represented in much Romanesque art of the 10th-12th centuries under Celtic influence as a man’s head with an invasive mustache pushing long extensions down on both sides and meeting with two flows of water descending out from the mouth. This wyver represents underground water circulation and magnetism on which the Celtic occupation of a certain territory was founded. This territorial vision was recuperated by and integrated into Christianity in early feudalism in Europe after the fall of the Roman Empire.
This would already be complex enough if this world were not divided along clear-cut religious lines. The Empire is against slavery and abides by the religion of the Three, the triune religion or faith-based on three divine bodies, the Father Sun and the Twin Moon Mothers. This explains the two clerical orders and their basic hostility if not open rivalry. The second religion was that of the Tyrant emperor of the old days: the religion of the Gods of Blood which was based on human and animal sacrifices, probably some cannibalism and definitely some vampirism, drinking the blood of the sacrificed animals or humans. The third religion is that of Harpool that states a social vision implying a small dominant elite governs the world and the vast majority of slaves who (or maybe which) have only one mission, function and end: to obey and do whatever hard tasks they are ordered to perform. It is clear that some of these tasks are prostitution clearly stated for girls bought very young and sold later to the matrons of some shady houses as soon as they have experienced their first bloody blossoming. You may consider some linguistic formulations as hinting at the same fate for boys, but it is more discreet, less obvious. Then you have the people who have no territories and are what is called sellswords, that is to say, mercenaries who sell themselves, and their swords, for temporary military service to the various factions of the empire. They believe in one god, the Sky itself, and that life is nothing but suffering, their god being a god of fire that advocates struggle, courage, battle and honor till death comes since death will be the end of suffering. No reincarnation, no rebirth. Just death. You have to consider the religion of the Aharos which is different because it merges together myths, legends, history into some mythological whole that respects the freedom of people, nature, sustainability and has a great knowledge of plants and other natural means to heal and improve life.
Add to this cocktail the intrigue and plotting of the clerical orders in the empire to create some fear of witchcraft, the belief that a few negative hostile spirits, demonic of course, can take possession of people in order to conquer and control the human world. Superstition and rumors are their tools and weapons in a time when there is no real daily mass communication.
So, enter this world and enjoy it. But do not skip one line if you really want to follow and take notes if possible. Kindle is good for that. I enjoyed the trip, recognized many influences or models, acknowledged the distortions of these models into some new logic or essence, but this volume will leave quite a few unfinished and incomplete businesses behind: so be sure you can get into the second volume. Maybe not straight away but soon.
The author is very young. So prepare yourself to see his name over the next few or many years. He sure has plenty of potential monstrous characters and maybe ethical perspectives here and there among the drastic frightening and even sickening chasms he opens under every single one of our steps in this strange land of his. If you survive you might have a good chance of being a happy psychotic PTSS beneficiary.
Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU
SERBAN VC ENACHE — TALKING CROWS — 2014
A FLOCK OF BLACK CROWS OVER THE PLAIN
Morning crow, sorrow!
UN VOL DE CORBEAUX NOIRS SUR LA PLAINE
Corbeau du matin, chagrin !
A small short story that tells one day in the life of three black brother crows or maybe ravens or maybe blackbird, who knows, crows they are called but they have other names that are funny in a way? Magnus, Korvern, and Septimius. And what’s more, for us they go Cra! Cra! Cra! But in fact, they seem to be able to communicate and to speak and think and have ideas about everything in the world, about humans and about dogs, and some other things of the sort.
Strangely enough, they have their own theory about the world and how it does not go, even about its economy as if they had been fervent students in some university. Definitely these three black crow remind me of Shakespeare and his three weird sisters, though here we have three weird brothers. And then their hatred for the local stray cat brings to my mind an old film, Fritz the Cat, a long-tailed cat who had great problems with black crows in another city that may have been New York. So they become like some plotters trainspotting in the air, some underground homeless and forlorn scavengers in our society living on rejects, trash and garbage?
At times they find a juicy dead body they can eat as if it were Christmas or Thanksgiving delicatessen or Easter Passover goodies or Ramadan evening nourishment. I suppose they satisfy their visionary hunger with the two globes of the eyes of the corpse, and yet they do not go further to some other parts that are juicy and rich in a body, alive or not, like the liver, the pancreas, if they can get to them, though they will never be able to break the shell of the egg of the brain, the cranium, the skull.
It is true they don’t need to eat human brain to be clever because they are naturally, and more than humans, because they know they have to respect nature, to clean it up of its garbage, though they could be thousands and they would not be able to come to the end of human trash, both the trash they drop everywhere or the trash they pull around them in the shape of dogs or cats, and even a third type which is humans themselves who are the governing trashy kings of this planet they don’t even deserve.
It is somewhat funny and somewhat strange, bizarre, surprising, and maybe too short since they sleep at night, well, so you say man, because birds always sleep with one eye tight open and the other wide shut since cats are nocturnal animals too, not to speak of bats and other nighttime predators. But birds have a very great sense of hierarchy; I was watching just this afternoon and yesterday the birds who come to my yard to take advantage of the bird-feeders Lucretia garnishes with all kinds of goodies. There is a band of blackbirds, males and females, five or six, maybe more and among them one macho male. When the blackbirds are there all the other little birds of half a dozen types have to literally fight to get to the food. The blackbirds are a perfect band of SS officers keeping their spoils of war. And this afternoon only the macho male was there and no one else could get close to the grains, seeds, peanuts, or whatever. He was pacing the yard and the snow with the authority of a Trump signing executive orders banning everyone from his own little White House lawn and rose garden.
Who said nature was just, peaceful, equalitarian, gentle, sweet? Ah! Ah! It is some kind of an inferno and humans are nearly just slightly more civilized than that, well maybe, perhaps, for sure but not quite sure.
So be careful the Men In Black are coming and you better be ready to be extra-terrestrialized if you don’t like the color. I know one President and one Prime Minister who have to be extra-terrestrialized as an urgent emergency and sent to intensive care in some NHS hospital (though that one could come to France and as a European citizen she could get some free treatment in some luxurious Paris hospital, like La Salpetriere built by Louis XIV), or some community hospital for the homeless in New York (for the other member of the pair that should be married urgently too before being moved to these medical reclusive retreats). But I will not tell names. I am not a rat, a cat maybe, a crow why not, but Serban made me smile with his birdlike human realism, and there sure are a lot of human beings in the street or in the bureaucratic offices we have forgotten to bury last time the hearse went by down in the street.
Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU
SERBAN V.C. ENACHE — JUDICATOR, LEVIATHAN & JUDICATOR, TEMPLUM DIABOLUS — 2019
Servan Enache is entering with these two autonomous, maybe not completely, chapters of a new series, a field that crosses cosmic science-fiction, and action science-fiction video games. He deals with his literature as if it were such a game, or as if, on his computer keyboard, he were at the console commanding the game. You will find it difficult at times to follow the logic of the story because you have not read the small print, no one has actually read it, and so you are not informed about what is essential in that genre: situations and characters are absolutely and constantly changeable, interchangeable, transformable too because the small print says that the console controller has a chest of special and unrevealed tools to change everything if so he fancies. This is a secret, of course, and remember if you can keep a secret I can too, so I have not told you anything about it and what I have just said is the purest and most honest lie. That’s what is good about video games, you can give the lie to any logic or reasonable architecture. You know the famous “(1) All humans are mortal; (2) Socrates is human; (3) Socrates is mortal.” And it can become “All humans are mortal, Socrates is mortal, hence Socrates is human.” Or “All humans are mortal, all cows are mortal, hence all cows are human.” Or the one about “Everything rare is expensive. A cheap horse is rare. Hence a cheap horse is expensive.”
But the more erratic the story is, the more significant and signifying it is too. But then you may wonder what Serban Enache’s story may mean, imply or simply suggest. You may, but you shouldn’t doubt it: it is full of meaning. But what meaning?
First of all and above all these stories clearly state that humanity is the supreme Empire in the cosmos, that the earth is something like a vague recollection in one little corner of a tiny drawer of the minuscule chest of drawer in the vestry of the Church of I do not know what God the stories refer too. They are working against invading lizards or whatever other aliens that try to invade the Empire and eat the dainty delicatessen human beings are, and I must say I have tried it many times and the aliens are right. But why should humanity ban cannibalism and enjoying human flesh, blood, and marrow? That would certainly cure or heal our overpopulation and it would also solve the problem of starvation, famines, even malnutrition. We should decide that one type of humans should be eventually served as food as soon as their ancillary function is accomplished. And I am not inventing anything here. Since the author imagines servants are lobotomized humans, I guess lobotomized at a very early age, we can really accept that these are supposed to work up to a certain age, either early teenage so that the flesh is tender and soft. Or till early adulthood so that the flesh is mature enough to have the taste of puberty, satisfied puberty, that is to say after they have been used for some procreation two or three times.
The second idea is that the author creates characters who have absolutely no humane dimension. First of all, the main character, Hera, short for Heranar, is surrounded by all sorts of subservient beings like entirely artificial human-looking machines who only know how to obey orders. Then there are some Technomancers who are partly human and partly mechanical, in fact, they have a human body onto which a mechanical organism has been grafted. These are extremely evolved as for technical knowledge and they have the right to suggest solutions to problems provided they remain mechanical. And the mind of this Heranar, maybe short for Her-anarchical because she is egocentric selfishness, hence anarchism by definition, there is no respect for human beings, or any living beings, and absolute hatred for aliens. In the first episode she accepts the destruction of an “archaic” Grecian tribe of human beings along with the sterilization of the planet they are living on, without any explanation how these ancient Grecian people have arrived here, just for one single reason: to prevent the taking over of it by some aliens lizard-like invaders. She hardly feels any emotion at such a sacrifice, and we must speak of sacrifice, the sacrifice of a whole human tribe just to sterilize what could become one entry point for these aliens.
In the second episode, she herself decides the destruction of a whole planet inhabited by human beings but infested by the heretical belief in some dark gods from an underground inferno or chasm. To destroy this heresy in this population and on this planet, she orders the destruction of the planet, after killing herself the main witchdoctor or prophet of this heretical sect. No pangs of conscience because I am afraid this Heranar has no conscience. After all, she is an Inquisitor, an agent of the Inquisition that is supposed to keep humanity and the Empire absolutely clean and safe, meaning with no heresy and no alien parasitic intruders. And the rule is definitely “Kill them all, and all by-stander at the same time.” Bystanders are always designated collateral victims: good riddance because they should have reported the invaders or intruders if not acted on their own to neutralize them.
But this Empire is the worst possible hierarchical society you can imagine, or rather you can have nightmares about. It is explicitly expressed at the end of the first episode: “Knowledge meant power. Power meant liberty to operate, influence and change. The price of freedom was destruction, chaos. The Empire … had endured a hundred decades in ignorance, without liberty — through the power of allegiance, not doubt or consensus. Knowledge has to be rationed with great care among the capable few.” This is the worst possible feudal or even slave society built on power being kept within as few hands as possible. All others have to be mechanical, lobotomized, enslaved servants, soldiers or simple humanoid tools, technical and scientific ones particularly. This vision of society requires a deep regression to a very distant reference.
“Using the ancient Westphalian approach to foreign affairs, relying on State-dirigism and Georgist tax-principles… had fostered unity and peace, had ensured maximum output at minimum overhead… Labor, enterprise, sales, and buildings were exempt from taxation… Land values were annually assessed and taxed in full. Other wealth-extractive avenues like usury and patents were outlawed… There was no room for idle property, for waste, or rent-seeking.”
This vision is the society that emerged after the Ice Age when agriculture was developed because then the survival of the community was no longer dependent on the resources in the territory of this community they could pick and hunt, but on the crops that they could produce by their work of the land. This determined another change: the women who were the providers of communal survival with their pregnancies and child-deliveries where pushed aside from all spiritual functions to be replaced by the few men who controlled the land and the tilling of this land, knowing that herding was mostly in the hands of male teenagers, like the young David, the future King of Israel, and probably domesticated dogs.
You must ask the simple question: What can such a land-based world become if you add modern science, modern technology, and what is essentially missing in this science fiction, modern universal (all places and everyone) virtual communication?
What it becomes is clear in the second episode of the series. On top, an elite who is supposed to be the only people controlling knowledge, science, technology, and also the only people who control political and religious power, and at the bottom heretical clandestine magical sects that only target controlling people and the Empire by taking over the minds of everyone with a mixture of self and reciprocally nurturing concepts: fear, faith, fealty.
To be afraid is basic from the top, from the bottom, and from the demoniac chasm. The top must inspire fear if people do not obey their commands. At the bottom, the mass of people who must obey must do so out of the fear of being sacrificed by the top elite, and for the top elite to keep their power. The demoniac chasm has to be the supreme source of fear, not fear for right now, except if the elite decides to sacrifice you by throwing you into the chasm, but the supreme source pf fear of what may happen to you after death.
To have faith in the power of the gods from the chasm, of the priests that talk in the name of these gods, and in the rituals imposed by them.
Fealty is essential to bring all the believers to some type of dependence, subservience, and submission to the inevitable death that may mean some kind of regeneration or rejuvenation in some virtual world beyond the chasm through which everyone is supposed to go one day. But it may also mean rejuvenation for the society for which you may be sacrificed in a way or another, on a cross or an altar, in a circus or in a dungeon, on a wheel or an impaling stake
This vision is an absolute reproduction of the Maya society based in the same way on the three values I have just described. But we could find the same situation in all agricultural societies after the Ice Age and on all continents. There was no exception, just at times here and there special cases. All these societies were built on absolute dependence and absolute submission to the absolute power of the top elite in the absolute fear of the Death Lords that live deep in the chasm of Xibalba. Enjoy your next meal, it might be the last one.
And that is exactly what the second episode shows us: the almightiness of the educated elite that does not share their knowledge but imposes it to everyone as the rules coming from the Divine world, the cosmic world, the universal powers of stars, suns, and planets, or of desires, impulses and instincts. The moon might be the real Goddess behind it all, as a recollection, a remembrance, an evanescent imprint from a previous social state, but it can be either feminine and associated to death (Selene, Hecate and Athena/Diana), or masculine and associated to self-sacrifice or blood-shedding, your blood or the blood of others, who cares since blood is blood, though it is less vital if it is the blood of others (then the Maize God of the Mayas can be this Moon). But this Moon might be the real ritualistic Goddess or sacrificial God, but only might be and She/He might pull the strings of all these male or male-looking subservient tools in the hands of these elite people.
Heranar is thus an exception in her femininity if she is in any way feminine beyond her official name and gender specification. It requires a little bit more than a grammatical gender to be a male or a female, and so far Heranar has nothing else, has only a grammatical gender. And we will have to wait for later and further chapters to know what she really is in this male-dominated and male-controlled world.
Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU
John Pilger, Interviewed by RT
The War on China & Other Issues
By Serban V.C. Enache
August 26, 2019
Robert Epstein on Google’s Manipulation
By Serban V C Enache
Jul 22, 2019–12:13:42 AM
GOD The Barbarian Horde — Greuceanul (2014)
•Feb 20, 2014
GOD · The Barbarian Horde
The new single “Greuceanul” from the upcoming “ZAL MOX” EP: With lyrics inspired from the rich mythology and old Romanian folklore and tales, embraced with the ancestral history of our people, the song “Greuceanul” is intended to be a transcendence between myth and spirituality, legend and truth. The ancient myth of the hero, the invincible. Or, simply put, the Prince Charming! He who is the chosen one by the old Gods and the special darling of the Fates who enchanted him since birth! And he who fought always against evil, helped by the deceitful winged donkey, a wondrous horse in reality, who’s “eating embers and takes him through the sky’s clouds”… he is a reminder of the immemorial Thracian Knight myth and the one of the ancient Dacian god Zamolxe, or the one of the fierce/ruthless Medieval prince Negru-Voda (The Black-Vaivode), but not only. A myth, a legend or a beautiful tale, all kept as very sacred treasures among the lyrical folkish creations and through the Romanian word traditions. You can also listen and free download the new song on our Bandcamp page: http://godthehorde.bandcamp.com Enjoy it and feel free to comment, give a like or share! Music: GOD The Barbarian Horde Lyrics: Constantin ‘Costel Castor’ Lapusneanu Recording Studio: Getic Art Studio Producer: GOD The Barbarian Horde Mixing & Mastering: Paul Barzu & Eugen ‘Gelu’ Lapusneanu Lyrics:
from Zal Mox by GOD The Barbarian Horde
Digital Track 00:00 / 09:38
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With lyrics inspired from the rich mythology and old Romanian folklore and tales, embraced with the ancestral history of our people, the song Greuceanul is intended to be a transcendence between myth and spirituality, legend and truth. The ancient myth of the hero, the invincible. Or, simply put, the Prince Charming! He who is the chosen one by the old Gods and the special darling of the Fates who enchanted him since birth! And he who fought always against evil, helped by the deceitful winged donkey, a wondrous horse in reality, who’s “eating embers and takes him through the sky’s clouds”… he is a reminder of the immemorial Thracian Knight myth and the one of the ancient Dacian god Zamolxe, or the one of the fierce and ruthless Medieval prince Negru-Vodă (The Black-Vaivode), but not only. A myth, a legend or a beautiful tale, all kept as very sacred treasures among the lyrical folkish creations and through the Romanian word traditions.
Official Videoclip in FullHD: youtu.be/AaX6QfsWJiU
Auzit-ați de-un voinic,
Ce pre lume a venit
subt un ceriu înstelatu
ș-un pământ îmbelșugatu?
Dar daca un an trecea,
cât alții-n șapte el creștea,
Ursitoare i-au uratu,
vrăji-magii l-au conjuratu,
cu fierturi mi l-au spălatu,
cu ierburi l-au fășuratu,
protejatu l-au lăsatu,
toatele l-au descântatu,
ș-apăi puteri mari i-au datu,
‘N lumea ră l-au lepădatu.
boreean și greucean,
la dușmani punea zăgaz.
Frunză verde de alun,
Asta-i una din bătrâni,
Frunză verde de trifoi,
I-ascultați aci, flăcăi!
Frunză verde de arțar,
de stejar și mândru brad
și-ncă una de castan,
să vă hie de alean!
boreean și greucean,
ce luptat-a c-un zmăuan,
pomenit de-amu mai an!
Auzit-ați de-un blajin,
pământean și năzdrăvan –
neam di urieși era,
din povești se scobora!
Ghionoaie și strigoaie,
iele, hare, vrăjitoare…
La voinic i-au dat cercare,
să-l vrăjească, amăgiască,
mințile să-i le cetească…
Dară el e luminatu.
De la zăi o fost lăsatu,
să nu cază vrăjilor și tuturor rălelor.
Iară el îi mândru-n stat,
și-a luptat neînfricat, luptele le-a câștigat.
Bividiu stelat avea,
ce jăratecu-l mânca,
și prin nori mi ți-l ducea,
departe spre zăi îl purta.
prin ceruri de-l flutura,
dușmanii îi îngrozea
și tot răul îl stârpea!
from Zal Mox, released April 11, 2014
Music: GOD The Barbarian Horde
Lyrics: Constantin ‘Costel Castor’ Lapusneanu
GOD — From the moldavian ecclesiastic throne  full album HQ, 47:50
01. Intro/From The Moldavian Ecclesiastic Throne
Să stie că el au muritu, si că pre mormântu lui, au arsutrei dzile si
trei nopti o lumină pre carele no aprinsese nimenea. dar moartea nu io
luatu simtirea si când neamu lui sufere, strămosu plânge în mormântu
său. Plânge căci nu poate misca dându la o parte povara grea a marmurii
albe. Dar odată si oadată el va învinge prin puterea-i strasnică a
durerii sale nemărginite! …
Întâi-u sabia-i va răsări-s-au din groapă,, floare di otel, vestindu
“Războiu cel mare” care va da drepatate neamului românesc. Tineti minte
cuvintele lui Stefan: “că Moldova n-o fostu a strămosilor mei, n-o fostu
a mea si nu e a voastră, ci a urmasilor vostrii în veacul vecilor … Amin!”
Apoi însusi-va va iesi în vederea dusmanilor, îngroziti, călare
înarmatu, săgetând ucigător din ochii săi straănici, limpeziti de ceata
mortii îndelungate. Oastea lui va fi el. si sângele său va sui pân’ la
coamele cailor si poporul lui “sveti Stefan cel Mare” va avea atunci
pretutindinea pace si fericire. Iară el se va culca iarăsi în mormântu
lui di la Putna dormind cu dreptii, sub steagul Tării Moldovei si a
(English translation courtesy Valentin B:)
Let it be known that he died, and on his grave a light burned
for three nights, which no-one had lit. But his death didn’t
take away his senses and when his kin suffers, the ancestor cries in his
grave. He cries because he cannot move casting aside the burden of white
marble. But one day he shall prevail through the great power of his
First his sword will be risen from the grave, flower of steel, bearing news
of “The Great War” which will bring justice to the Romanian people. Remember the
words of Stefan: “that Moldavia wasn’t my ancestor’s, wasn’t mine, nor yours, but
it is our children’s for all time, amin!”
Then he will behold himself to the terrified enemies, on horseback
and armed, with steely eyes that pierce through them, cleared by the mist
of the long death. His host will be him. And his blood shall rise to the
manes of his horses and the people of “Sveti(Saint) Stefan cel Mare” will then have
peace and happiness everywhere. And he will rest anew in his tomb at Putna
sleeping among the righteous, under the flag of Moldavia and our good Lord!”
02. The Waiting…
Wait, wait, wait … for the eternity moment
Wait, wait, wait … for the moment of eternity
Wait, wait, wait … for the unknown love!
The air that both breathe
Even if we lose our ways
We run away from the world
The clarity of your image is alive!
As your warm closeness
You’re cursed to be invisible
I’m cursed to be a part of you
You’re my invisible confessor!
And I confess to you
My divine unshared love
I’ve sinned by not knowing you
I’ve sinned by not touching you
“In Manus Tua Domine”.
I miss you I love you
But I’ll hide myself
I’ll run away from your hot love
But I’ll come back to it and you
You punished me to be happy
From hapiness my death shall come
You condemn me to love loving
From love to rise
All the holly things you
03. My Romance
From the darknes of the cloudless sky
From the light of the gloomy heaven
In the lasting … within me!
From the purling of the flowing waters
In the purling of the flowing waters,
From the sigh of the falling leaves
In the sigh of the falling leaves,
From the tears of the weeping willow
In the tears of the weeping willow,
From the song of the rooming birds
In the song of the rooming birds,
From the hearts of the angelical choir
In the hearts of the angelical choir,
From the soul of the wondering mortal
In the soul of the wondering mortal,
My pain … is my romance
My romance … is my life
Oh darling dance with me
And forget my identity
Oh darling you hurt me
And why did you leve me?
My crying … is my romance
My romance … is my soul
Oh darling come back to me
And let’s live an eternity
Oh darling why did you fly in the skies
And why you make me cry?
04. Black Judgement Day
The sun will become dark
The moon won’t shine
The stars will fall from the sky
And the power of the “GOD” will shake
Then the sign will show
The coming of the son of man
Coming of the clouds in the sky
Praise the power with the voices
The earth and the sky will pass
But the words of the son of man
Will never pass but will live forever
Like the lighting that’s on the horizon
And you can see it until sun down
That’s the way the Second Coming will be!
05. Diabolus In Musica
Deus, …ens reallismus
Esse … esse est percipi
A dicto dictum causa sui!
Diabolus in musica !!!
06. Pity Of My Own Grief
My goddess from the night
lighten my way
the way of our love
which rises in my heart
My goddess of the moon
love me to the blood
let me feel your power
to praying every night
I’m a Christian
and you tempt me to sin
with the thought and the deed
Tell me, you, my own blood -
why does your name burn in my soul
why I never could come closer to you
just for one time, to be next to me
even if you’re far away
and yet, so near
as you will never be to me
I’m happy that you exist!
I call you dear
and I pay too dearly for my wandering
I’m ashamed, I pity myself
Please take away from you
show me your deep hate
Let me feel how disgusting a man is
drowned in his own grief
I can’t imagine myself
living near somebody without body
Only soul…and I will recover
I did ruin myself, not you
You have no fault, but pity
you may have for me…
Simt cerul unindu-se cu pamântul
Când te aflii lângă mine
Când ma privesti, esti
Ochiul divin deschis,
Luminând întunericul din mine
Deschizându-mi portile închise
Calauzindu-mi pasii ratacitori
Pe drumul către tine
Către inima ta
Plina de sfântul har divin
Plină de iubire pură
Pentru mine bietul muritor
De rând în rând cu altii
Precum ca mine dar nu ca tine
Căci tu arati ca noi si simti ca noi
Dar esti ceea ce noi nu vom fi…
Niciodată … nicodată nu te vom putea atinge!!!
Ba da, doar cu iubirea
Te rog, luminează-mă te rog
Acum, aici, în prezent
De parcă n-ar fi fost trecut
Si totusi a fost si va mai fi
Precum toate au fost si sunt
Luminate de lumini nemuritoare
Precum în ceruri si pe pământ!
Niciodată … nicodată nu te vom putea atinge!!!
(English translation courtesy Valentin B):
I feel the sky uniting with the earth
When you’re near
When you look on me, you’re
The open eye of the divine
Lighting the dark within me
Opening my closed gates
Guiding my footsteps
On the way to you
To your heart
Full of holy divine grace
Full of pure love
For me a poor mortal
Not different from others
Like me but unlike you
Because you look like us and feel like us
But you are what we never will be
Never… never shall we reach you!!!
But yes, only with love
Please, shine your light upon me
Now, here, in the present
As if there was no past
And still there was and will be
As all have been and are
Lit by undying lights
As in the skies, so on the earth!
Never … never shall we reach you!!!
Come a little bit closer
And hear what I’ve got to say
Burning words of anger
Of hate and desperation
What if I break the silence?
What if I do forgive the past?
I know it might sound funny
To tell you what I felt
I mean I really loved you
It’s a shame — my fault — I know
But why — but why
Why are you so stupid?
But why — but why
Why are you so stupid?
Fuck you and your killing lies
I hate your pissing attitude
Why did you have to go so low
Trueler — Copycat
What if I break the silence?
What if I do forgive the past?
Sucking like a vampire
The blood of all your friends
But sorry, my blood was poisoned
Now burn in hell
You killed the love
You killed the trust
What if I break the silence
What if I do forgive the past?