De Hominis Dignitate - A Cold Winter Sunday

De Hominis Dignitate - A Cold Winter Sunday
Demo 2009 - Reprinting of the unreleased demo A Cold Winter Sunday
www.myspace.com / dehominisdignitate
Music and lyrics by Winter

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I. A Cold Winter Sunday


Trees,
bare and property,
had kept
the frozen river for eons,
while the snow
had fallen from the sky
whitening
the uncultivated land.

The landscape had been challenged
in its placidity,
in its magnificence.
But that day calm
had failed
because in that place
war was over
and screams, and blood,
had bribed
the dark purity
than cold vision.

Between iron and flesh
had lived
that moment of hell
or increased from time
Yet its signs persist,
and listener
can still hear
the noise old
blades hit them.

Who sees
can still discover
in the eyes of soldiers,
under heavy helmets,
fear ch'ebbero
not survive
to rediscover the days of rain
or go back to dreaming
aiming at the night sky.

But only he who reproves
may still feel
the eternal resentment of the spectra
those who discersero death
remain anonymous and whose corrupt
lie forgotten on the ground milky
from the cold winter Sunday.


II. Flamethrower


Lying in the holes
motionless and in silence,
because the cost for a sign
of a single man
and defeat.

Among the dead, the carcass,
lain in the mud,
we are waiting for a glow
illumine the night plumbea
and wrap the languid moon.

Burn! Burn!

We will look at the reflection
silhouettes of adverse
twist between the red flames
until consumed.

Seizing their cries apart
choked by the crackle of flames.
Their pain is our manna.
Their blood our mead.

Burn!
Odiali!
Disprezzali!

So we raise
mud and dust,
to plant, weather,
our flags.

Disdaining oppose
until every enemy is bent.
Only then can we have a truce
because our goal has been reached
and in that instant die
Winners in the triumph.

This is the desire that belongs to us,
the cry that combines and unifies us,
which gives us the strength to fight,
and continue to creep into the earth
waiting for a light in the night.


III. Abandoned to the wind and rain


In some dead pine
without mounds or graves,
now lies my shadow.

I'm dreaming of what was,
of life that came
memory still exists

Chiari I feel the feelings,
the memory of contempt
vision of pain
and the image of a sky
falling into the night.

Remembrance remote drops
descending fields
the passing of the storm.

Looking back I'm that cold,
and the faint tremor
one night in September.

But of this there is nothing
They come and now only ravens
to me, to tear the flesh.

But regrets are trifles
because a dream has come true
face and I saw Samael
when she took my soul.