Ignis Fatuus

Snowfall

Frost in a churchyard, silent falls the snow
Silent on gravestones cold, on stories old
So softly spoken, whispers from below
Heard by a searching ear

A mocking voice calls, calls from Limbo's gloom
"In time the living die, the dead remain"
The snow will cover living men and dead
All in its pure white cloak

Lord of Night

Come dance with me through the mists of night
To the dark and slumbering woodlands
Where roam the nocturnal, spectral beasts
Drawn by their master's calling

Black ivy climbs up the broken walls
Where a castle once presided
The glare of the stars through velvet sky
Lends life to rotting ruins

Of dew and mold we shall spin a dream
That will match a demon's fancy
A whisper from ancient hollow stones
Of fairy rings and phantoms

Keep close to me for the wind is still
And the Lord of Night is calling
A gift I have brought on New Moon's Eve
Of innocence and pale skin

Song

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain;
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Ingenting
En sang kan handle om så mangt
Om kråkeskrik og måneskinn
Om snodighet og tankespinn
Om veien hjem til hånden din
Denne sangen min er om ingenting

Så spar vi frem en melodi
Og får den lille viser'n til å gli
Klokka er ikke mer enn ti
Og det er alt jeg har å si
Denne sangen min er om ingenting

The Withering of the Boughs

I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds:
"Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,
I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words,
For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind."
The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill,
And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.

I know of the leafy paths that the witches take
Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool,
And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake;
I know where a dim moon drifts, where the Danaan kind
Wind and unwind dancing when the light grows cool
On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.

I know of the sleepy country, where swans fly round
Coupled with golden chains, and sing as they fly.
A king and a queen are wandering there, and the sound
Has made them so happy and hopeless, so deaf and so blind
With wisdom, they wander till all the years have gone by;
I know, and the curlew and peewit on Echtge of streams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.

Now in these Fairylands

Now in these fairylands gather your weary hands
Close to your breast and be at rest
Now in these silences lean to the cadences
Moulding their grace to the line of your face
Now at the end of all, loveliest friend of all
All things are your in this peace that endures

Flowers and butterflies, dew-drops in grass
Suddenly quiet as painted glass
And fishes of emerald dive for the moon
Whose silver is stained by the peacock lagoon
Since it is evening and sailing weather
Let us set out for this dream together

Till He Arrives

When summer nights are warm and bright
And fill the gardens with delight
When morning still is out of sight
Pale orchids glow with lunar light
And you won't make a sound
As I lead you all the way

When summer nights are warm and bright
And fill the gardens with delight
I wish you may I wish you might
Reach out and touch that hollow fright
Then I won't shed a tear
As you lead me on your way

Well, summer nights are warm and bright
And fill the gardens with delight
But cold and dark are autumn nights
And gardens pale with frosty white
And you won't turn around
As He leads you down that way

Signs

The moving moon went up the sky,
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside

John Dee's Lament

It was twilight by the river
I lay lazing with my love
We were wondering and dreaming
Of the starlit worlds above
Where the crimson turns to purple
And the purple turns to blue
How we wished that we could dive into
That strange unearthly hue

Distant moonwhispers and starsongs
Dance like fireflies at night
So dark and rich in melody
So sad yet filled with light
Where the blue comes out of purple
Where the black succeeds the blue
The air vibrates a wistful song
I have not seen my love for long