Luyện nghe bài hát Le Suzerain Des âmes En Peine

In a dream he illusions,
Gloomy premonitions of a storm,
His hatred without respite,
by the suffering, the screams and the shocks
Of these lower who sleep without dreaming.
As this far and star flood the landscape with its misty light,
I see the frightened wandering through the swamps,
Sports of a lord.
The sharp flicks of the hoofs with the long screams of agony,
With the eternal of the blind Morpheus,
Captive of an invisible dungeon from which he was the master.
The measure of this grim hunt,
That no will soil,
A requiem of a dance.
Any will come to clear the profane wound,
And its essence bear the sign forever,
Invisible but primordial at the of the Last,
of the suffering souls,
THE KING, ON THE THRONE OF