Luyện nghe bài hát Le Suzerain Des âmes En Peine

In a dream he illusions,
premonitions of a funeral storm,
His hatred sticked respite,
Filled by the suffering, the screams and the
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,
of a funeral lord.
The sharp flicks of the hoofs blend the long screams of agony,
the eternal lamentations of the blind Morpheus,
Captive of an invisible dungeon from he was formally the master.
The flutes of this grim hunt,
That no will soil,
A requiem of a dance.
Any salvation will come to the profane wound,
And its will bear the sign forever,
Invisible but primordial at the of the Last,
King of the souls,
THE KING, ON THE OF SORROW