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Brosnung ond Anforl​æ​tan

by Ascese

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YomaBarr
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YomaBarr Like I'm standing on a lone hill within an endless plain howling my last message to the world that's not there anymore.

Great idea, great madly good piece of blackness and incredible intensity. Yuri, thanks.
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1.
Brosnung 13:03
Ƿrætlic is þes ƿealstan, ƿyrde gebræcon; Bvrgstede bvrston, brosnað enta geƿeorc. Hrofas sind gehrorene, hreorge torras, Hrvngeat berofen, hrim on lime. Scearde scvrbeorge, scorene, gedrorene, Ældo vndereotone. Eorðgrap hafað Ƿaldend ƿyrhtan forƿeorone, geleorene, Heardgripe hrvsan, oþ hvnd cnea ƿerþeoda geƿitan. Nv ic eom efen þis brosnvng. Crvngon ƿalo ƿide, cƿoman ƿoldagas, Sƿylt eall fornom secgrofa ƿera; Ƿvrdon hyra ƿigsteal ƿesten staþolas, Brosnade bvrgsteall. Betend crvngon Hergas to hrvsan. Forþon þas hofv dreorgiað. translation: Wondrous is this wall-stead, wasted by fate. Battlements broken, giant's work shattered. Roofs are in ruin, towers destroyed, Broken the barred gate, rime on the plaster. Walls gape, torn up, destroyed, Consumed by age. Earth-grip holds The proud builders, departed, long lost, And the hard grasp of the grave, until a hundred generations Of people have passed. Slaughter spread wide, pestilence arose, And death took all the pose brave men away. Their bulwarks broken, their halls laid to waste, The cities crumbled, those who would repair them Laid in the earth. And so these halls are empty.
2.
Anforlætan 12:27
Ic bi me tylgvst secge þis sarspel Ond ymb siþ spræce, longvnge fvs, Ond on lagv þence, nat min. Hƿy ic gebycge bat on sæƿe, Fleot on faroðe; ic for tæle ne mæg Ænigne moncynnes mode gelvfian, eorl on eþle. Ic eom mode seoc, bittre abolgen, Is seo bot æt þe, gelong æfter life. Ic on leohte ne mæg bvtan earfoþvm ænge þinga Feasceaft hæle foldan ...vnian; þonne ic me to fremþvm freode hæfde, Cyðþv gecƿe... me ƿæs a cearv symle Lvfena to leane, sƿa ic alifde nv. Giet biþ þæt selast, þonne mon him sylf ne mæg Ƿyrd onƿendan, þæt he þonne ƿel þolige. Ƿræcsiþ eom ic. translation: I speak this pained message mostly about myself, and jabber on about the journey, ready for longing, and upon the waters ponder knowing not my own— why I should buy a boat upon the sea, the float upon the shore. I cannot love in my mind any of mankind for my malice, a noble in his homeland. I am sick of heart, enraged bitterly! The remedy is with you, it lies along my life. I cannot in the light abide for anything in the earth hardly owning health, having only hardship— When I have been freed from this alien homeland, a desirable country, sorrows of my love were always mine as reward. Yet it will be best, when one cannot avert these events from himself, what he may well endure. To misery exiled am I.
3.
Cierr norðdæles blodes Deaþ ond angmodnes Eall inn þv Gastas ond heagorvne Vnder fealv bansegnas heafonas Hƿær heorvsƿealƿan singaþ hira mode Hƿæt ƿiteþ þin isern vnsƿefen Æþel Eastƿeg? Endelease feldas Genipv ond angrislicv ƿvdv Beargas ymb eabrerde Ond ofer hærfeste ƿinde Langfæ forgeaton leoþ Eorðcynn baan ymb drose Beadogriman ond beadomeceas rvst Bræþ byrignessa ond hærfest eorð Bregvrofæc ealde A spræca to me Med grimlicvm hleoþrvm holdvm Vnfordƿinaþvm gemyndigvm Cierr norðdæles blodes Deaþ ond angmodnes Eall inn þv Gastas ond heagorvne translation: Once of Northern blood Death and tragedy Everything in you Ghosts and mystery Under the grey banners of skies Where falkons sing their pride What haunts your iron dreams Motherland Ostenvegr? Endless fields Mists and horrid woods Barrows by the riverbanks And autumn wind above Long forgotten songs Human bones in the dirt Helmets and swords in rust The smell of graves and autumn soil Mighty olden oaks Always speak to me With their grim voices of the dead With their neverfading memories Once of Northern blood Death and tragedy Everything in you Ghosts and mystery

about

Brosnung and Anforlætan are elegies in Old English, written by unknown authors, probably in the 8th or 9th century, and published in the 10th century in the Exeter Book, a large collection of poems and riddles. The poems are most commonly referred to as 'Ruin' and 'Resignation', but neither word existed in Old English, so they are translated here into their Old English equivalents.

credits

released January 3, 2020

Music, instruments, vocals, recording, mixing, mastering and lyric book by Y.
Lyrics taken from the Exeter Book.
Cover art by Floor Steinz Illustrations.
Æþel Eastƿeg (Motherland Ostenvegr) originally composed by Walknut. Lyrics translated into old English by Y.

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Ascese Utrecht, Netherlands

Ascese (English: asceticism) is a sombre black metal outfit from Utrecht, the Netherlands. Ascese channels old English poems and tales of destitution and world-renunciation.

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