1. |
On the Acheron Shores
04:48
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Hades and its waves
are reflected in the damned’s eyes...
...moaning along these shores.
Eternity won’t meet their hopes,
but will dress their souls
of a woe untold among the living.
Charon calls from his boat the souls to get onboard;
laments and weepings fill the darkness.
Biting winds blow against the bow.
Naked shapes beg for a mercy denied long ago.
- Italian spoken -
"Queste anime... sono coscienti del loro viaggio gravoso.
Secoli di dannazione scorrono tra le onde, echeggianti come le urla dell'Ade.
Bruciano e ardono le sponde del fiume.
E in queste fulgide fiamme tutti rivivono il proprio grigio passato. Colpe, e momenti persi... I loro sguardi non possono posarsi su null'altro.
Ma possiamo testimoniare il loro dolore, imprigionati in questo limbo, senza sapere quando la nostra nera barca salperà."
- English translation -
"These souls... are aware of their burdensome journey.
Centuries of damnation flow through the waves, echoing like the screams of Hades.
The riverbanks burn and blaze.
And in these refulgent flames they all relive their grey pasts.
Guilt and lost moments... Their gazes can rest on nothing else.
But we can witness their pain, caged in this limbo, unaware of when our black boat will set sail."
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2. |
Death of Poseidon
09:26
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The retreat of the sea
makes room for death...
that plows the seabed.
The waves evaporate recalling
the stench of mankind.
It saturates these new oceanic deserts.
No more keepers to repel raids, slaughters,
and eternal waste.
We chose to abduct the grand streams
to flood our superfluous.
In our numbness we float along this all,
torn between decay and stagnation,
between survival and extinction.
We gasp slowly and joyfully, while waters
caress our greedy throats.
We don't even feel their frost anymore
Despite perennial ice is gone.
Is gone...
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3. |
Funerals unto Ruin
09:40
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Undoing, ruination of one’s will,
the same way fortitude succumbs to life.
Regrets and doubts are chewed by isolation
in a corner of the void.
Too many questions siege my head.
From the outside of seclusion
I wander in my mind’s sight:
ruins of funerals, lost in the past.
Never ended, just forgotten.
Mournful wraiths gathered
on a bare hill,
so many, so lonely
waiting and wondering…
Undying rites of farewell
they were doomed
to relive in loop.
Time was just a field of debris
in which to sow unsolved questions.
In the spires of an autumn
I ask the wise frost about my doubts:
"Will they miss me?
Is this just the end, or mere a dream?
Now I'm alone.
Will they forgive, at least forget?
The past won't return.
What lies beyond?"
Quiet was filling with the dusk light,
yet the grief seemed not to dissolve.
It greeted night instead, anchoring to darkness.
And taking the shape of despair.
While their worlds fell into ruin,
centuries of funerals
flowed before their eyes
and lasted too long.
A hotbed of grief was that hill.
So dense the wraiths left.
Spreading dejection through the wind rose.
Shards from silence, ashes from motion:
my vision slowdowns and blurs…
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4. |
The Dead Helmsman
02:50
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5. |
Afterlife Dejection
08:28
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Split yourself for a while – a while – from your flesh shell.
Decay from the outside and wilt: can you sense this?
Dejection in tales: shades of your being...
You kept bending yourself over and over.
Like a flower’s stem weighed down by snow, slowly.
Are you realizing you are actually folding?
Folded into a ghost form...
Thin host of an emptied life at the gates of afterlife.
Is it your choice this endless wait below their peaceful light?
On the sly in your bare quiet wait to cross your own last threshold.
Oh, here it lies much to unveil.
Yet don't venture too far...
Joyful gardens of yore, now swamps of discontent.
A spreading dejection, a plague, few eternities ago.
No one warned us here too hope can fade and die.
Mirth, peace and stillenss won’t feed the soul forever.
It's the afterlife deception. Rejection for the millennia of distress to come.
We all gather in deception... dejection...
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6. |
Seizing the Eventide
06:40
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We’re held by a fabric of soil upon the life’s chasm.
Blowing from below: fumaroles of dejection.
We struggle to grab a transient delight
from starlit vespers out of reach;
for our fingers dazed by hope...
Wouldn't it be better to die?
Wouldn't it be better to tear that fabric apart,
with our claws strengthened by torment?
Night now dresses in an amber veil,
and I wish to steal it to coat my coffin.
A mere deceit for the rotting flesh...
Now on a lost peak - on the verge of my death,
I’m closer to my illusion:
I’m dying in its relief.
As a dreaming dead I seize the eventide.
It feels like life has never been there.
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7. |
Decadence in Minor
08:57
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A lesser life lurks in my gaze,
Seeing the firmament;
its layers are mangled by sootish flames.
The air solidifies up there:
a superb view of obsidian skies,
falling and shattering to the ground.
The sound they evoke
on their way's a concert
of lost requiems,
only few souls perceive.
This purge from the Elysium
will be our swansong;
our decadence in minor.
Decadence in minor.
As cities awake in this last victorian decade
blackened flakes are being admired.
A last taunt from these scornful gods?
A rift in the sky, so in the earth.
Marvel and chaos...
fools swarm with futile burdens,
churches packed with wasted words.
From both fissures Eurynome voice rises in a grunt.
The atmosphere vibrates:
chests resound misaligned with hearts.
Claimed by dread they blow up.
Ground overturns and hades replaces the reigns of man.
With no, no trace of mortal slight and life.
And life.
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8. |
|
|||
|
The retreat of the sea
makes room for death...
that plows the seabed.
The waves evaporate recalling
the stench of mankind.
It saturates these new oceanic deserts.
No more keepers
to repel raids, slaughters,
and eternal waste.
We chose to abduct the grand streams
to flood our superfluous.
In our numbness we float along this all,
torn between decay and stagnation,
between survival and extinction.
We gasp slowly and joyfully, while waters
caress our greedy throats.
We don't even feel their frost anymore
Despite perennial ice is gone.
Is gone...
|
||||
9. |
|
|||
|
Undoing, ruination of one’s will,
the same way fortitude succumbs to life.
Regrets and doubts are chewed by isolation
in a corner of the void.
Too many questions siege my head.
From the outside of seclusion
I wander in my mind’s sight:
ruins of funerals, lost in the past.
Never ended, just forgotten.
Mournful wraiths gathered
on a bare hill,
so many, so lonely
waiting and wondering…
Undying rites of farewell
they were doomed
to relive in loop.
Time was just a field of debris
in which to sow unsolved questions.
In the spires of an autumn
I ask the wise frost about my doubts:
"Will they miss me?
Is this just the end, or mere a dream?
Now I'm alone.
Will they forgive, at least forget?
The past won't return.
What lies beyond?"
Quiet was filling with the dusk light,
yet the grief seemed not to dissolve.
It greeted night instead, anchoring to darkness.
And taking the shape of despair.
While their worlds fell into ruin,
centuries of funerals
flowed before their eyes
and lasted too long.
A hotbed of grief was that hill.
So dense the wraiths left.
Spreading dejection through the wind rose.
Shards from silence, ashes from motion:
my vision slowdowns and blurs…
|
||||
10. |
|
|||
|
A lesser life lurks in my gaze,
Seeing the firmament;
its layers are mangled by sootish flames.
The air solidifies up there:
a superb view of obsidian skies,
falling and shattering to the ground.
The sound they evoke
on their way's a concert
of lost requiems,
only few souls perceive.
This purge from the Elysium
will be our swansong;
our decadence in minor.
Decadence in minor.
As cities awake in this last victorian decade
blackened flakes are being admired.
A last taunt from these scornful gods?
A rift in the sky, so in the earth.
Marvel and chaos...
fools swarm with futile burdens,
churches packed with wasted words.
From both fissures Eurynome voice rises in a grunt.
The atmosphere vibrates:
chests resound misaligned with hearts.
Claimed by dread they blow up.
Ground overturns and hades replaces the reigns of man.
With no, no trace of mortal slight and life.
And life.
|
||||
Eurynome Milan, Italy
Atmospheric funeral doom with distorted bass, tuned at 436 Hz for a more decadent and melancholy sound.
We're inspired by
1800s cemeterial and somber culture, also ancient Greek and Roman mythology.
Nicole Delacroix - music & singing
Jacopo Marinelli - lyrics & growls
Founded in cemeterial mist - 1883
... more
Eurynome recommends:
Albums and artists that inspired us and we just love
go to albumAlbums and artists that inspired us and we just love
go to album
the Fading Light
by Illusions Play
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