from by MORAR

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Like the vulture
Who on heavy morning clouds
With gentle wing reposing
Looks for his prey

He whose heart cruel
Fate hath contracted
Struggles but vainly
Against all the barriers
The brazen thread raises
But which the harsh shears
Must one day sever

To whom balsam was poison

With thy glimmering torch
Lightest thou him
Through the fords when ’tis night
Over bottomless places
On desert-like plains

But who stands there apart?
In the thicket, lost is his path
Behind him the bushes
Are closing together
The grass springs up again
The desert engulphs him

Who‘ll heal his afflictions
To whom balsam was poison

First despised and now a despiser


from Wahlheim, released January 15, 2016



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MORAR Iceland

“Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a roe on the desert; terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the storm. Thy sword in battle as lightning in the field. Thy voice was as a stream after rain, like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by thy arm; they were consumed in the flames of thy wrath.” ... more

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