Анон - Сплетаемся в объятьях братских - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

We are intertwined in brotherly embraces.

Strong arms clasp the landing strong bodies. We kiss each other on the mouth. We kiss silently, like a man, without womanly tenderness. By kissing each other we inflame and greet each other. The servitors between us are fussing with adamantium pots full of Necromundan ointment. We scoop up a thick, fragrant ointment and smear it on ourselves. Wordless servitors scurry about like shadows, for nothing shines among them.

- Sanguinius! - Dante exclaims.

- Blood of Sanguinius! - we exclaim.

Dante gets up first. Brings Mephiston closer to him. Mephiston inserts his oud into the Master. Dante groans with pleasure, baring his white teeth in the darkness. Korbulo hugs Mephiston and inserts his greased horn into him. Mephiston groans in the womb. Astaroth the Gloomy is in charge of Korbule, Quiet is in charge of Astaroth, and Quietly is driving the sticky pile and my turn has come. I grab the left-winged brother with my left hand, and with my right hand I direct my oud at him. Brother Tycho has a wide bastard. I drive the oud right up to the crimson kernels. He doesn’t even quack quietly: he’s used to it, he’s a native blood angel. I grab him tighter, press him to me, tickle him with a black carapace. And Lemartes is joining me. I feel the bastard's trembling mace. It's heavy and won't fit without a push. Lemartes sticks out and drives his thick-headed oud into me. His colossus reaches right to my guts, squeezing a visceral groan out of me. I moan in Quiet's ear. Lemartes groans into mine and wraps his brave arms around me. I don’t see who’s giving it to him, but from the grunting I can tell it’s a worthy oud. Well, yes, and there are no unworthy among us - the technical priests of the oud have updated, strengthened, and equipped everyone. There is something to please each other and to punish the enemies of the Emperor. The Space Marine caterpillar is assembled and mated. They hoot and grunt behind me. According to the law of the order, left wingers alternate with right wingers, and only then scouts are assigned. That's how it is with Dante. And glory to the Emperor...

From the screams and muttering I sense that the scouts’ turn has come. Dante encourages them:

- Don't be shy, greenie!

The young people try, they push each other’s tight assholes. Dark servitors help them, guide them, support them. The penultimate young one screamed, the last one grunted - and the caterpillar was ready. It worked out. We freeze.

- Sanguinius! - Dante shouts.

- Blood of Sanguinius! - we thunder in response.

Dante stepped forward. And behind him, behind the head of the caterpillar, we all move. Dante leads us to the font. It is spacious and roomy. It fills with warm blood instead of ice.

- Sanguinius! Sanguinius! - we shout, hugging each other, moving our legs.

Let's go get Dante. Let's go. Let's go. We are walking at caterpillar pace. Our mudas shine, the ouds in the bastards tremble.

- Sanguinius! Sanguinius!

We enter the font. Blood boils in air bubbles around us. Dante is immersed in muda, waist-deep, chest-deep. The entire Space Marine caterpillar enters the font. And he gets up.

Now is the time to be silent. The muscular arms tensed, the brave nostrils began to sniffle, the paratroopers groaned. Sweet work time has come. We educate each other. The blood sways around us, moves in waves, splashes out of the font. And now the long-awaited thing has arrived, tremors are rolling through the entire caterpillar. AND:

- Sanguiniiiiii!!!

The vaulted ceiling is shaking. And in the font there was a force nine storm.

- Sanguiniiiiii!!!

I roar in Quiet's ear, and Lemartes screams in mine:

- Sanguiniiiiii!!

Emperor, help us not to die

Indescribable. Because it's divine.

Reclining in soft longchairs after bloody angelic copulation is like heavenly bliss. The lights are on, champagne in buckets on the floor, spruce air, Rachmaninov's Second Concerto for Piano and Orchestra. After copulation, our Dante loves to listen to music from ancient Terra. Let's recline relaxed. The lights in the muds go out. We drink in silence and catch our breath.