Here beside me.
Under endless howling winds
My dying race is wandering homewards.
Led by an old man to shores.
That don't exist.
Just emptiness remains...
On and on goes our march gruesome as the light of sun
Cold as winds that hide in me hour after hour
Day after Day my lullaby is turning and falls gently on this sleeping land
Like a hawk trembling of hunger and like a burning source...
burning source..
Two years have passed and still my race is wandering through foreign shores..
Homewards...
My soul is now formed as a knife forwards
The heart of your heaven.
And so I die...
Still my folk keeps on marching...
Homewards...homewards...
Voici une superbe chanson de Summoning, sans conteste un de mes groupes favoris
(Tirée de l'album Minas Morgul)





