Brisinghamen-Satyricon Enslaved

Einsam ho gret, den vakraste av alle Fanga og låst I ei sorg ingen skjøner Gleden forsvann langt, langt der ute. Ei brennande lyst, en ingen håp. Ho lengtar heim, men finn ingen veg. Ein sorgfull lagnad gøymt bak eit smil. Mardol du fagre for fred du blei ofra Du solgte din lekam, men fann ingen trøyst. Det som glimrar gjer ikkje fred for deg Gern du ga deg hen, og slokka mangt eit begjær. Men, framleis drypp det om natta gull frå dine auge. Frøya, od skal du finna når alt er forbi då skal du bli sluppen fri. Inntil den dag finn du inga trøyst. Sjøl ikkje I glitrande Brisinghamen (English translation: BRISINGHAMEN) In solitude she cries, the most beautiful of them all Captured and locked in a sorrow no one can conceive Joy vanished far out there Burning desire, but no hope She longs for home, bu tcan not find a way A dismal destiny hidden behind a smile Mardol, you glorious, sacrificed for peace you were You sold your flesh, but found no comfort That which glitters does not bring you peace Gern you devoted yourself and consumed many desire. But, still in the night, gold is dripping from your eyes. Fråya, Od you shall find when everything ends Then you shall be set free Untill that day you shall find no comfort Not even in the shining Brisinghamen