1. |
Vers La Foscor
01:01
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2. |
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This is the land of the thousand caves...
Where the inferus extends his darkness and calm...
Land of snakes... Where the lord of hell lives...
Creator of fire and magic...
In a solitary dungeon one day born the blue flame of destruction...
Foc de la Foscor...
Green crystal throw your flash of wisdom toward the eclipsed eyes...You are decay...
Idittus from the woods, whisper the old spells...
Orcus...God of Inferus...
We admire your wisdom and your strenght...
Therefore we invocate your spirit...
For you to come out from the cave...
Follow the path of blood that you once created...
And so we will vengance...
Those who despise the sacred mother night...
You are Decay...
07.19.2001 Norax
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3. |
Lunar Landscapes
06:12
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Aristarchus... Clavius... Endymion...
Oceanus procellarum... Mare serenitatis...
Sinus medii... Foecum ditatis...
Carpathi... Caugasus...
Riphaei... Hamus...
Engraved symbols on the black stone of the stars...
Abysmal mysticism in the learnt scripture...
The waterman knows the path to the threshold of the nocturnal symphony...
Melancholic lunar mountains,
you have buried countless secrets of the age’s infinity...
Sorrow, lunar sea,
your desolation reflects the wisdom of the eternal silence.
Circles of fire in the supremacy of the dark skies...
The flash of an elder pagan moon
Pagan moon... moon...
Lunar landscapes in my mind...
Lunar landscapes in my soul...
When flying the lord of chaos and the sweet death reigns...
05.25.1998 Norax
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4. |
Old Wind's Revenge
05:49
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Shout from the entrails of the deep hall without light...
Lord of madness...Flying to the top of twilight...
Lord of calm...Divinity of the earth ages...
You know the great necrofagus expects us...
You colonize the thones of the highlands...
You howl with the wolf’s shadows...
Ancient wind, someday my aura will be part of your liberty...
Old wind shout the ancient revelations of Mother Nature...
Divinity of the Earth’s ages...
They believe that you are the lord of the flies,
when you roar they don’t listen your revelations, ancient wind...
They want to chain your wisdom...
When the old winds’ scream and flow springs of blood...
They cry tears over their own errors...
When the old winds shout the revelations of the Mother Nature...
Then my flesh and my spirit will posses as part of the immortal universe.
1999 Norax
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5. |
Ravens Of Battle
04:11
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Ravens of battle...
You fly over the fallen temples...
Under black clouds in the landscapes of eternal desolation...
Ravens of battle...
You fly over the battlefields...
Where the enemy's blood flows in rivers of victory....
In the thrones of the high mountains...
Where the white snow her source glorify...
Under black clouds itself extends the landscape desolations...
The coldest battlefields where the warrior spirits unleashed their fury...
Where millennial trees compose the hymn of holocaust.
In the days of the last battle...
The days of the waiting vengance...
For the tears of our clan...
For the great horse of fire...
For our noble fallen warriors...
Defenders of the majestic Mother Night.
Now, we are more than they...
More learned and hatefull...
Then I will see the ravens of battle flying over the fallen temples...
Flying over the dying bodies of my enemies...
05.06.2001 Norax
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6. |
Al Cor De La Boscúria
06:25
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Al cor de la boscúria el fontinyol suau,
de penjarelles d'herba com filagarsa cau.
Quan la tempesta afua son perllongat udol
i trenca, esperitada el fil del fontinyol,
quan les afraus ressonen, del sostre als fonaments,
com una ermita buida oberta a tots els vents,
ell plora amb un dolcíssim gemec de flabiol
que esboira la tempesta i renovella el sol.
"La muntanya d'ametistes" 1908. Guerau de Liost ( Jaume Bofill i Mates )
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7. |
The Sorrow Of Delight
07:51
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'Till death be filled with darkness and life be filled with light...
The sorrows of ancient sorrows...
Shall be the sorrow of night...
But then the sorrow of sorrows...
Shall be the sorrow of delight.
1896. Fiona Macleod ( William Sharp )
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8. |
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In a solitary world and desolate...
Where the fog and shadow's reigns...
Where the forests arises, pride and immortal,
the shadow's village resides...
The village of the damned...
Wilderness land where the wolves shade her lament with the mortals...
Where inhabit the mother witch...
Queen of the Moon's ceremony.
Born in the shadow's village...
In a distant forgotten land...
Where begin the magic...
Where the sun is dead...
This is the home of the forgotten laments...
Where inhabit the lonely souls of long white hairs...
Where the horned God created the fire...
04.12.2001 Norax
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9. |
Foscor Barcelona, Spain
FOSCOR (“Darkness”) hail from Catalonia, with a long artistic tradition with the fin de siècle style of Modernisme (Art
Noveau & Jugendstil).
Attracted to and build upon these foundations, they take inspiration from the morbid, decadent, and sick reflections on a rapidly changing society.
May darkness be tragic.
... more
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