PORRRRRRRRRRRR FINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN no es oficial pero es una traducción bien hecha de "Tulimyrsky", llevaba cuatro meses esperando por ella
Recomiendo leerla a la vez que oyes la canción, y con la letra original al lado para no perderse con los numeritos y eso. Esta noche la oiré mientras la leo. quéemoción quéemoción quéemoción quéemoción quéemoción quéemoción quéemoción quéemoción quéemoción
La letra original está aquí
http://moonsorrow.com/moonsorrowcom/lyr ... yrsky.html
Dadle las gracias al chavalote este por la traducción
http://roguepolitical.net/odds-and-ends ... anslation/
Y no dudéis que cuando tenga un rato la traduciré al castellano. Faltaría plus.
1
“I remember how, on that night, I looked out of the window. The sea was calm, and the stars were veiled in a thin, gauze-like mist. The beach was quieter than ever, but I could not sleep. I watched the birds shivering on their branches; I wondered why they were so restless, as if expecting something. Later I understood that Death had whispered to them, just as it would have whispered to us had we only been able to speak its language.”
2
“As the night still lingered they arrived. Six long, thin, beautifully adorned boats drew out of the mist less than a mile away from the window at which I stood watching them. I followed as armed men, one after another, waded onshore and lit their torches. First they were silent, as silent as the beach. I extinguished my candle on the window-sill, hoping the men had not noticed me. Then I ran.”
Draw your weapons! Light your torches! Now go, destroy! Burn everything!
They deserve no pity, kill them all!
You left your homes to exact revenge, now fulfill your destinies!
You wanted blood, now smear yourself with it!
High flames mirrored in the sea, the dragons now resting proudly in the midst of the carnage, their gaze following the axes and swords of killers.
Someone flees, tearing out an arrow from their back. So many drown in the wash of blood.
High flames mirrored in the sea, drowning the sun in fire’s black spirit.
Arise… firestorm!
Belching black blood!
Painting the sky… firestorm!
Flaying the Earth in flame!
3
“It was vengeance, though I did not know it then. The men were from the village, far away across the sea, that we had attacked a year ago… and I remember how one of them had stayed with us to trade; a renegade who did not wish to return to his people. From him we purchased the keys to the eradication of his people.”
Pillage! Rape!
The dawn rises in the distance.
The men, the swords already far away.
Not a soul can be seen.
The village defenseless, no-one expecting a thing.
The dawn heralds a lightning strike, and house upon house is set alight.
For many, the day shall be short.
Everyone will remember what will be told later.
When he came, he watched the roofs burn, loved-ones fall.
Weapons were not lowered.
The lips of the dying mouthing from whence they had come.
4
“The attack left few survivors. What they did have was a will to fight, and one could always forge new swords. As winter and spring drew on they built six ships, the most glorious I had ever seen, and amassed into them men from all allied villages, thirty strong and hardy North-men in each. Their ships did not fear the sea, and the men themselves feared nothing.”
So the men are sent on their way.
And the folk await on the shore, perhaps afraid.
The command echoes far, now row!
The young men, full of pride and anger awaiting their moment.
Until, once at the edge of the sound a storm arises from nothing.
With ease it rips even the strongest into the waves.
At the North wind Orm, now filled with rage, yells:
“You will not capsize this ship! Men, grab the ropes!”
5
“Perhaps it was one of their gods that managed to get the wind that had ceaselessly battered the coast throughout the summer to die down. None of us could guess what destruction awaited us later. I merely remember someone cursing how the cattle had to be herded back into the corral because of the fog. But the birds knew, and stayed silent, listening.”
No silent shores.
Look onto the sea, feel the weight of the water.
What hatred does it carry?
Those green pastures are peaceful as in death.
All movement stops, the fog lies heavy on the fields.
Soon, the day darkens, obscuring the sea from view.
Someone still trades at the market.
Doubtless some have stayed at home this morning.
Somewhere a lamb chews downheartedly on grass.
By its side a shepherd, hungry and restless.
The thick fog helps no-one’s journey.
No-one aware of what the sea now carries.
6
“That night, when I lit a candle on my window-sill it did not betray me, though I believe it should have. I remember seeing how torch after torch was lit, but the men themselves awaited something. They were discussing something. I ran to the nearby hills without awaking a soul, hoping they would rouse themselves and know to run. The men were not here for me. Neither were they here for any of them who were about to lose their lives.”
Frenzied looks shining, meeting fear.
House upon house now burning.
A cross-bearer with blood on his robe.
Any gold they find is taken.
Take it all! Burn it all! Kill them all! This is our revenge!
7
“The outlaw they were looking for originally came to our shores with a North-man raiding party, to one of the nearby towns where traders often visit. He was a powerful warrior, but no longer concerned by his reputation, since gold had rendered him blind. He later came to us, offering us a chance to rob his peoples’ riches. And we paid him for the information he gave.”
Now, finally finding the village, one that had gone on his way.
A sword resting on his side, glittering in the sunshine.
Drinks from his cup, speaks at length.
Many take an interest in the talk of the outlaw.
He arrived from somewhere beyond the sea.
Beyond the sea he left his kin.
For a moment he hesitates, tugging his braid.
Doubtful he wishes to return.
His people have money, this he tells.
And the villager, greedy, is aroused.
He knows not yet, but he will fall to his own plan.
Every betrayal is claimed by death.
8
“That morning, when we were about to set off and head to the traitor’s village, he left us. I saw him myself when he had walked half a mile from the last house, the gold we gave him slung around his shoulder in a sack. This is why I know that these men that later attacked our village never found him here.”
The blood of the outlaw is ours!
We will have it, even if it takes burning everything.
He will pay for what he sold.
In the abyss is the place of one who betrays his brother.
No-one knew, they could not see it.
When far away, the Earth challenged foolishness.
An end to his story he received, that of quiet shame.
9
“I do not know how many days I ended up spending in my hiding place, as the thick black smoke lying above the burning houses blocked out the sun, and those houses burned long. Perhaps they left that same night, but I dared not yet return to the village.
…And the shore remained quiet when the firestorm finally died down, but the people were dead, and the birds no longer there.”
Soon the flames will dance alone.
Alone under the sky sits the beautiful coast.
Silently, one tends to his wounds.
And so the ships are cast off.
A broken voice sounds somewhere.
Somewhere a man sings, rowing alone.
Pockets full, to the East.
The glow of the fire illuminating the dark way.
So the wind will carry us home.
