Wandering Cirith Gorgor

Six roses of damnation
thorns of oblivion, dreams unfold.
Stars enlighten a darkened sky
like reminders of ancient stories, still untold.

As shadows dance through the landscape
the dreamy spires now grow bold.
Like statues of gods once fighting autumn wars,
the remains shaped in purest gold.

Silver is the eye that sees it all
reflecting its light on marbled stone.
The beauty of night oppresses his thoughts
at once an eclipse darkens the halls.

He wanders beyond the gates to their kingdom
through cemetaries of dismal dreams and misery.
The snow-covered mountains, so dark and cold
lay hidden in the silence of a deathlike eternity.

The smell of passion and gloomy romanticism
laying over the dusk-filled gardens:
Gardens drenched in the colours of temptation
but hidden in the music of the dead.

The wanderer goes on and on
his kingdom will never be theirs, never.
In bittersweet desire, grim and everlasting