[Poem by Jørn Hernik Sværen / Translation by Kristoffer Garm Rygg]
Hear! From this day forth are the heights of Horeb broken and the sea of sulphur - ice.
And blasphemy! in heaven`s chambers: Souls had fled their halls and closed was the book of life. And behold! The great, white throne: black with sacred blood.
Our father - Dead by his own hands: an epitaph worthy no king
And so ie everything a nameless lie. Who, my god, am I?
Man knows me as Lucifer, the serpent of old The wretched hold my banner high. Your gift - all life! - I grant the grave. Yet I am not your death
Come carry forth the crown to your once held throne. Here is where my suffering should cease - but alas: I am crowned in grief unheard of!
In this lone monarchy - without friend or foe - I greet the morning sun with strife and a song: Please speak my name! And leave me not in the dust of death
I am weighed down beneath the tragedy crown, - nameless and alone, a fatherless son.
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