Текст песни Нордвэй - Ночь над лагерем

Two dead Lorkhans
clear in the sky
speckled with worms.
So the moons stopped running.
It means that it trembles in the scorched bliss
star ligature.

Breathes in yurts like a belly
Ursilaku flickers from fire to fire.
The hunter tugs at the bell sleeves,
Ashkhan frowns
and
clicks tongue.

The shaman is bad by the eye.
He coughs, calculates one thing in his sleep:
how many at a time
will bring a pestilence at a time
into the house,

about milk in sagging breasts,
about prophecies and saints without a name
and, as it were, exchange the peace of the tribe
for life
line.

The shaman has ashes in her curls;
accumulates, invisible and weightless.
Pre-dawn, last and brightest
undead about days gone by
sleep.