Jorunnr - Баллада о маркизе
текст песни

Ancient stones are bound with frozen lace
The wind howls like a long offended dog
Beats against the cold walls of a deaf tomb
Where the gargoyles grinned with granite mouths

Wormwood smells bitter near a forgotten tomb
The beast goes around that damned hill
Someone is moaning and crying, groaning in prison
Promises love, promises peace

The coffin and columns are shrouded in a musty haze
Smooth marble caresses bare feet
And graceful hands, submissive to the shackles
Traps are uselessly scraping along the walls

Ah, the marquise is beautiful, but so lonely
The thin fingers in the frame of the rings are chilly
And on the pale brow the scarlet purple of vice
Evil pools of eyes and bride's crown

Neither alive nor dead
Neither wife nor widow

You, marquise, were in vain to believe the count
They gathered at the altar, but came to the chopping block
The price of a demon's feelings is thirty coins
Unfortunately, he no longer needs your passion.

That night the bad weather tore and tore
It rumbled, sparkled, lashed with rain
On a black horse, a tired late traveler
He asked for accommodation on the family estate

And the marquise let in an unexpected guest
She took the wet raincoat from well-groomed hands
She treated me to wine on rowan bunches
How the stranger's voice and gaze were alluring

The languor in the conversation accumulated like tart poison
For the first time, the marquise was embarrassed by the ardor of desire
The Count was handsome and powerful, gallant and pale
He promised pleasure and bliss forever

It’s easy and sweet to give in to temptation
Yielding under the pressure of confident caresses
The passionate young body burns with fever
And it doesn’t matter that the lover has fangs

Neither alive nor dead
Neither wife nor widow

You, marquise, were in vain to believe the count
They gathered at the altar, but came to the chopping block
The price of a demon's feelings is thirty coins
Unfortunately, he no longer needs your passion.

Awakening dispelled the lunar spell
The morning is burning with fire, there is emptiness in the mirrors
It's too late to cry, marquise, the legends didn't lie
The immortality of your soul will never be returned to you

They bound and tied with silver and prayer
They imprisoned the marquise in the last chamber
The bats were circling fussily
Watching in powerlessness the sad outcome

You, marquise, were in vain to believe the count
They gathered at the altar, but came to the chopping block
The price of a demon's feelings is thirty coins
Unfortunately, he no longer needs your passion.

With her mortal body the bride is still alive
Thoughts and flesh are eaten away by bloodlust
Dreams dark dreams of his master
Unable to overcome pain, resentment and anger

Only during the full moon does the fog wander
Poisoning men's hearts with madness
And he calls you to the bed, lures you with deception
Praying for freedom from shackles and crown

Neither alive nor dead
Neither wife nor widow
Neither alive nor dead
Neither wife nor widow
Neither alive nor dead