Get all 8 Путь (Pathway) releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Трепет, Wounded Souls, Путь - Юдоль скорби | Pathway - The Vale of Sorrow, Культ III – Вознесение (Cult III - ascension), Холодная весна (Cold Spring), Песни Смерти, Под Крылом Смерти, and Война изнутри.
1. |
Астерий / Asterion
06:43
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Asterion
There we were around the spring well
preparing hecatombs for the eternal gods near the plane tree
clinging to the golden cup
inhaling greedily at the fumes of intoxicating nectar
And the maidens will bathe the bulls, adorn them with wreaths; the restless herd will then walk towards the spectators in the squares
Along the sun-soaked shores, along the marble temples, to the place where Pallas blocks the sacred gate with her spear
The bronze stings
make hundreds of black throats erupt a howl
there is a scarlet river flowing
it is the blood of Asterion’s children
And their father hears them from the temple's grim depths his insane scream echoes their croak
his long sleep amid incense smoke has come to an end as poppy seeds and
Cretan wine have no more power over him
To the rumble of trumpets the circle of kneeling tribunes is rejoicing and calls again tasting the blood of Asterion’s children "He saw the kingdom’s zenith its ruins along the cliffs at the sea through the long vista of years their laughter their lament their triumph and sorrow"
Prince, do hurry to appear! Leave the quiet marble halls adorn the curves of your mighty horns with Hecate’s crown Prince, do appear before us! The time has come for a colossal harvest Enjoy the love of the crowd, the nectar and the bulls’ meat
Asterion, do appear!
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2. |
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Sevensong of Death
For the one who died too early, here are the autumn chillness’s hymns their ringing will echo in the steps of the Monk’s Mountain For the one who died too early, here are the starry sky’s lampions illuminating the deceased one’s sleep with a pale stream of light
The face of the one who died too early, a silvery gleam in the old garden’s shade
does not hurry to go and keeps listening to the leaves’ and rocks’ whisper The vibrant childhood is left behind the edge of this iron fence The quiet old age comes as a vista of cheerless days
At a mournful hour, there was a blackbird with its song of the night and his frail spirit appeared before me from the shadows
The soul sang of death, of the green-colored decay of flesh, and it was like the rustle of the woods, like a fervent cry of a beast. The soul sang of death, melting in the purple sunlight The blue bells of sundown rang on the dusky towers. Oh decayed body of man; a carcass made of cold metals, the night, the terror of underwater forests, the beast’s fury reduced to ashes;
Walking through the black woods the dreamer descends into the dark ravine stretching out his hands to the sky towards his star, towards its warmth
Glistening on the water surface the boat is carried by the silent river through snowfalls towards the edge, downwards the dreamer travels, filled with light amid the quiet waves' shimmer
As the evening paints my dreams golden I often invite the dead man to my cell, out of boredom for long conversations with him at the quiet river under the elm trees in the shade of their broad crowns
In spite of death itself!
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3. |
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Palesmurtian Pasture
Is it a scream from the field, or is it the wind dartling amid fir trees with mournful howls or are those yells of the one who came for us from the thicket At the edge of the woods where time-worn roots are entangled with the meadow grass I am making a protective sign in dismay, praying to gods
"Oh Inmar, protect my home against evil spirits and horrible disasters Protect the people against those who come in the night, from evil sorcery Until the cold days when the first leaf falls onto the empty field Protect us all from him who wanders in the moonlight"
A shepherd girl will perish in the woods, a scream will rise up over the Palesmurthian Pasture in the sunlight There’s a child’s dead body in the ravine, and sorrow will fill the Palesmurthian Pasture in the sunlight
I came at the call through the shady wood past the moss-grown oak tree Going round the hollows filled with stale water where the soil was so black And froze on the spot in the clearing’s middle after finding the source of that demonish sound There was a halved spirit sitting on the top of a tree stub
"Go, go away, evil one, away from our villages May your footprints fade all away Give us back those people who have perished in the thicket Before the winter’s cold winds"
One half’s pale body was gaping with its wide-open maw with the other one invisible to the human eye from its feet to the forehead The body kept changing, now short and then towering above the fir tree’s top Protecting the centuries-old forest against the evil concealed under the shade of the valley from the earliest times
"Oh rowan tree, hide me away from the evil of the woods may the birds sing their farewell songs Here’s old Palesmurth laughing, full of malicious joy, above this bog where my body grew cold"
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4. |
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Cold Spring
Through a blurred windowpane I can see dull joyless yards. The cold spring is asleep in empty towns.
The world’s so small, it’s ruled by stupidity. The final is bitter, I’m forever alone, confined in empty rooms.
Oh agony, leave me alone, Don’t touch the thread of my soul. Let me disappear in centuries, Let me rot within my ashes.
May my body be covered with fragrant herbs, May my bones glitter following the goldish sunrays, An emerald-framed portrait in the velvet of flowers. No human voices but the nature itself read a funeral service for me.
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The Vale of Sorrow
Through the crowd’s joyless movement, past the gloomy castles past the time-worn walls mutilated by time, like in a nightmare fully dissolved by the earthly woes following my destiny, I‘m walking away from my miseries
There’s a pointing finger at my shoulder, all withered, of the horrible old woman dragging along after me for years and years invisible to the others, she whispers unsettling words into my ear for many years already, their meaning is haunting my mind
"Reject, all your sufferings, cast them aside, stay in my hands. Console yourself, let the universe’s bones grow cold.
The hands of your rulers are covered with gold The mouths of your prophets are filled with stench and with blood The sun of your kingdom is on the decline It’s time to go, get away from this vale of sorrow
Oh sorrow, do sing my farewell hymn about the void land May the houses burn down of poor families doomed to always be hungry May they break their backs working so hard for leftovers from rich men’s meals May hordes of rats fill the heartless town with plague Show me another way, free me from the bondage of earthly chains, Lead me, old wife
May the son perish in the scorching-hot furnace of a war waged for someone’s pride May the mother bring the silver of her bitter tears to the grave mound May spite, agony and wickedness be established within human souls Show me another way, free me from the bondage of insane dreams
Lead me, old wife
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Путь (Pathway) Pskov, Russia
We compose music, live in music and want to show it to you!
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