Abschiedsbrief des Prometheus

Nargaroth
Rasluka Part II
No Colours Records 2002
500 MCD without Background Photos (False Press), MCD regular, 10“ Vinyl ~ 200 (?) in white Vinyl, the Rest in
black Vinyl
1. Introduction - In Stillem Gedenken 01:16
2. ...und Ich Sah Sonn' Nimmer Heben 10:23
3. Abschiedsbrief des Prometheus 07:06
4. ...vom Freien Willen Eines Schwarzen Einhorns 05:52
Total playing time 24:37
The cover image of the Rasluka series shows the Irishwoman Deirdre, mourning the
death of her beloved Naoise. She was forced to wed King Conchobhar, who once had
her beloved killed when he had flown to Scotland. In order not to have to give herself to
the murderer of her beloved and his brothers, Eogan mac Durthacht, she jumped in
front of a dashing carriage and smashed her head at a rock. Two pines grew on the
tombs of Naoise and Deirdre, which eventually wound around each other and then grew
as a single tree.
The Rasluka series presents the attempt to interpret one of the most difficult
experiences in my life, namely the passing of the only person whom to this day I could
call a friend. It can and will only be an attempt as judged by the moment of writing of
these lines; the material brought to sound still isn't in its completed form and I cannot
expect a successful spiritual relief of the deceased as my experiences with the
deceased cannot be related to any already-released Nargaroth works. In addition, the
series contains thoughts from my perspective about the life and death of one of the last
real rebels, one who played an important roll from my youth to today with no loss of
intensity. Rasluka is the phonetic morphology for the Russian expression of "parting
ways". The released works under this name should be rightfully understood in content
as such.
KvN
As I received the message of death on the evening of September 9, 1995 and
consequently in a rush of pain newly "remodeled" my residence, I didn't suspect how
extensively this event would influence me. I repressed and tried to forget what
happened, yet directly from the dark empire of repression came a substance so
manipulatively effecting my spirit that I dare say my social or coexistentual incapacity
can be traced directly back to a powerlessness born on a mild September evening. A
few hours before the tragedy R. came to me asking if he could leave a few pieces of
his HiFi equipment with me because a court official was to visit him and he wasn't
prepared to give it up. Shortly after he made his way I was already curious as to which
pieces lay in the cellar, but I didn't want to go behind my friends back and go through
the property he had trusted with me. Later, it must have been a few weeks after his
suicide, Charoon was with me and we spoke, like so often, about the event. Then I
remembered the cartons still waiting in the cellar. We decided to carry them up and
open them, but even on the way up out of the cellar I realized that something was
wrong. Because as Charoon easily balanced a carton with one hand, my carton's
weight was giving me considerable problems. As we opened them we found in one
carton some t-shirts and longsleeves from R. and in the other his entire music
collection, from CDs to cassettes to video tapes. I must not mention what this moment
and its corresponding realization destroyed in me. To this day I ask myself if I could
had prevented this tragedy had I thrown away my decency on the day R. brought me
the cartons and simply opened them.
Kanwulf: Strings, Flute, Vocals and Choir, etc.
Charoon: Strings
Occulta Mors: Drums
Rasluka - Part I and Part II were brought to sound from 3. - 5. June 2001
As a parting are to be dedicated to
R.S. (25.9.1976 - 9.9.1995) who hanged himself,
and to one of the last rebels,
Ronald Belford Scott (9.7.1946 - 19/20.2.1980), who after a night of
drinking suffocated on his own vomit.
KANWULF IS NARGAROTH, NARGAROTH IS KANWULF
NO COMPROMISE !!!
... und ich sah Sonn‘ nimmer heben
(...and I saw sun never rise again)
(Lyrics/Music 2001)
At stony remnants of old ruins,
I gently rest out my life.
At narrow clouds a fire’s burning,
a sign of the dying sun realm.
I watch the land, see it red like fire,
that’s painted by the dying sun.
I see birds fly over the old ruins,
and I listen to the song, which silently rings out.
It calls in leafless trees alone
the sad song of a nightingale.
I dare to dream, fall into it,
into her singing of my downfall.
The nightingale screams from the leafless trees,
her song into the night now.
It don’t touches me anymore,
cause my soul wake up never more.
.......
Abschiedsbrief des Prometheus
(Suicide Letter of Prometheus)
(Lyric 2001 / Music 1999)
Since times there is a agonizing wound,
which gaping there enjoy the suffering.
That she creates since the hour,
where the black tears had flown.
She dribbles for her own will,
and the doctor fights in vain,
with his art to soothe her.
But it seems, I have to stand her.
So I flee screaming into deep dark caves,
but still I can hear my demons deride me.
I try to shut my soul,
but I hear myself scream, hear myself groan.
So I undo the carpet of life,
and I weave in again the thread.
But in my life will be never again
the spark of the Prometheus.
..........
...vom freien Willen eines schwarzen Einhorns
(... of free will of a black Unicorn)
(Lyric/Music 2001)
I feast my view at elfgreen hangs,
at reefs that rise from a roaring sea.
I see thousand of horses run to the top,
before runs a black one in front of a snow white host
It reaches the top with silky pastern,
but did not stop as reached the end.
Horrified are starring the snow white masses,
as it plunged into the waves, so cold.
The black one now free from lonely anguish,
satisfied his longing for freedom and will.
My eyes now resting on autumn withered valleys.
Oh, could I satisfy my longing this way too.
So I feel the longing after fresh’n free winds,
but look full of shame on my white garment.
At night I cry after the oh’ so free child,
that vanished with the black unicorn.
.......
To all the big-mouths who only define Nargaroth with "Herbstleyd": I cannot and don't
create another album like Herbstleyd again. All the emotions expressed by this work
are, even if with a delay, completed! New or different emotions mean new and
different expressions! New experiences, thoughts, pains and pleasures cannot always
be the same that old ways and means were expressed. I'm not just some kind of guy
that makes a bit of "music", like the most in this art form creating only empty shells of
a song. This art is my possibility to live, yes, to live on, and the spirit and robe of my
expression changes with me in the manner it stands in front of you. Alone this, so
small as it might seem, differentiates me from the scum and their pitiful attempts to
judge or set me in a certain direction. To direct me means to stand above me. Yet
when I look above I only see stars illuminating my devoured paths. Only they have the
right to direct me, and they won't do it alone! Nargaroth won't get better or worse, only
different!
KvN
Rasluka Part II LP Cassette
Amarok Part II LP Cassette Inlay Front
Amarok Part II LP Cassette Inlay Back
This is an attempt of a more poetic translation of the Rasluka Lyrics, to get close
to the original language spirit of the poetries:
... and I never saw the sun rise
(Lyrics/Music 2001)
At stony remnants of old ruins,
I gently make peace with my life.
Through narrow clouds a fire summons,
a sign from the mighty sun's dying light.
I look at the land and it looked red like fire,
that which is painted by the dying sun.
I see birds fly over old ruins higher
a grasp from the song my ears have silently won.
It calls through leafless trees alone
a so sad song the nightingale.
I dare to dream, to fall and moan,
the song of my downfall I hear her wail.
The nightingale screams from leafless trees,
it's her song into the night for now.
Yet it doesn't touch me anymore it seems
because my soul will never wake again somehow.
.......
Suicide Letter of Prometheus
(Lyric/Music 1999)
For times a wound has pained,
that, gaping there enjoys the suffering moans.
From that which she creates since the rain,
the hour the black tears had flown.
She struggles for her own will
and the doctor fights in vain,
with his art, to soothe her still,
it seems, as if I must bear her pain.
So I flee screaming into deep dark caves,
yet I can still hear my demons mock me alone.
Although I try to shut my soul and my pain,
I hear myself scream, hear myself groan.
So I undo the quilt of life,
and I weave in thread yet untouched..
But never again in my life's desolate plight
will come the spark of the Prometheus.
..........
... from the free will of a black Unicorn
(Lyric/Music 2001)
I feast my view at elf-green slopes,
at reefs that rise from a roaring sea.
I see a thousand horses ride up unbroke,
A black one runs leading a snow white steed
It reaches the top with silky bonds,
but did not stop as it reached the last fold.
Horrified eyes are the snow white masses don,
as it plunged into the icy waves so cold.
The black one now free from lonely agony,
satisfied his longing for freedom and will.
My eyes now resting on an autumn withered valley.
Oh, could also my longing be this way fulfilled.
I feel the longing after fresh free winds so mild,
but I look in shame at my white garment worn.
At night I cry for the oh' so free child,
that vanished with the black unicorn.
.......