Ulver — Wolf & Hatred song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Wolf & Hatred" by Ulver.
Lyrics
O Vandringsmand i een forbandet Nat
Troe ey at hans Had dig vild skaane
Hans Rov vild ey vaere nogen anden
End dig —
Der vild skiælve i hans vær
I uselt Haab om at Huus er nær
End dig —
Hvis Blod skald blifve hans stærke Viin
Oc Siæl, hans hellige Trofé
Faafængt han lader dig gyde
Ut dit Blod i Smertens Sin
Saa du som død ey Sofnloest kand
Fortælde Frænder: «Ulven er ham!»
Som Offer for Beistets Krav
Dit Blod vild rende koldt som Bæcl i Grav
Gud er ey her, men Døden nær
Oc hvert Secund som her
Er undt dig —
Skimrer i et dobbelt Skiær
Aff baade Liiv & Død
Rasende lader han Bliket binde
Løfter dit i Maaneskinnet
O Wanderer in this infernal Night
Believe not his Hate will spare thee
His prey shall be no one
But thee —
Who shall tremble when he is near
In foolish hope for shelter
And thou —
Whose bloode strong wine shall be Thy Soule, his sacred Trophie
In vein he lets thee shed
Thy bloode in this Sea of Payne
Then shalt thou not haunt thine friends
Revealing: «The Wolf is he!»
Coldlie thy bloode shall flow
As streams through Graves below
God is not here, but death draws near
And secondes are O, so few
In a Nature twofold they shine
Beginning and End combine
Fool, thou art prostrate
By the raging eyne of his
Lifted upwards
Rapt in Moonshine
Lyrics translation
O Wanderer in one cursed night
Troe ey that his hatred you wild skaane
His ass will be anyone else
Than you —
There wild skielve in his be
In plain hope that Huus is near
Than you —
Whose blood shall become his strong Viin
Oc Siel, his Holy Trophy
He'll let you spawn
Ut your blood in the pain's Sin
Did you see as dead ey Sofnloest kand
Tell Kinsmen: "The Wolf is him!»
As a victim of Beistet's demands
Your Blood Go Wild cold like Brook in grave
God is here, but death is near
Oc every second like here
Is except you —
Shimmer in a double ski pair
Aff both Liiv & death
Furious he lets his gaze tie
Lifting yours in the Moonlight
O Wanderer in this infernal Night
Believe not his Hate will save thee
His prey shall be no one
But thee —
Who shall tremble when he is near
In foolish hope for shelter
And thou —
Whose bloode strong wine shall be Thy Soule, his sacred Trophie
In vein he lets thee shed
Thy blood in this Sea of Payne
Then shalt thou not haunt thine friends
Revealing: "The Wolf is he!»
Coldlie thy blood shall flow
As streams through Graves below
God is not here, but death draws near
And secondes are O, so few
In a Nature twofold they shine
Beginning and End combine
Fool, thou art prostrate
By the raging eyes of his
Lifted upwards
Rapt in Moonshine