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letras de
Candlemass
EPISTLE NO. 81
0 opinión
Letra y Significado de
EPISTLE NO. 81,
Candlemass
Significados y Opiniones (
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Letra
Oh no! Esta misteriosa letra aun no encontro explicación. Si estas acá, podes ser la primer persona que aporte el significado de esta canción. No es necesario registrarse, puede ser anonimo. Hace clic en el botón verde y envianos tu opinión.
:)
Envia tu opinión de EPISTLE NO. 81
Envia tu opinión de EPISTLE NO. 81
Mark how our shadow, mark movits mom frere
one small darkness encloses
how gold and purple that shovel there
to rags and rubbish disposes
Charon beckons from tumultuous waves
then trice this ancient digger of graves
for thee ne'er grapeskin shall glister
wherefore my movits come help me to raise
a gravestone over our sister
Even desirous and modest adobe
under the sighing branches
where time and death, a marriage forebode
twixt beauty and ugliness ashes
To thee ne'er jealousy findeth her way
nor happiness footstep, swift to stray
flitteth amid these barrows
e'en enmity armed, as thou seest this day
piously breaketh her arrow
The little bell echoes the great bells groan
robed in the door the precentor
noisome with quiristers prayerful moan
blesses those, who enter
The way to this templed city of tombs
climbs amid roses yellowing blooms
fragments of mouldering biers
till black-clad each mourner,
his station assumes
bows there deeply in tears
Corregir Letra
Corregir Letra
Mark how our shadow, mark movits mom frere one small darkness encloses how gold and purple that shovel there to rags and rubbish disposes Charon beckons from tumultuous waves then trice this ancient digger of graves for thee ne'er grapeskin shall glister wherefore my movits come help me to raise a gravestone over our sister Even desirous and modest adobe under the sighing branches where time and death, a marriage forebode twixt beauty and ugliness ashes To thee ne'er jealousy findeth her way nor happiness footstep, swift to stray flitteth amid these barrows e'en enmity armed, as thou seest this day piously breaketh her arrow The little bell echoes the great bells groan robed in the door the precentor noisome with quiristers prayerful moan blesses those, who enter The way to this templed city of tombs climbs amid roses yellowing blooms fragments of mouldering biers till black-clad each mourner, his station assumes bows there deeply in tears
Enviar Letra
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