Гринни-де-Вальд - Раньше среди шаманов... - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

There used to be rumors among shamans that one night, timber wolves, howling at the twinkling fragments of the stars, agreed with the sky on a strange deal. As if they, longing for shelter with warmth, suddenly wanted to put on human skin, they became not wolves - people: steep cheekbones, dark skin, muscles, two meters at the withers.

Only one thing forever shackled souls - each of those who once violated the agreement, turning into a wolf even for a moment, will remain a furious gray beast. You know, a legend is such a thing, it seems that it has already been told, has flown away, but turn around, look, the shadows are disappearing, old fairy tales are knocking on the door again.

*

How long has gray-haired Uri been awake? Uri walks around the house and smokes a lot. The West is getting dark - there will be a big storm, the steppe outside the window seems to be crushed with a sickle. The wind is noisy, the trees are swaying, the enemy is on the doorstep, the village is surrounded. Somewhere in the distance stands the commander Remu, a brave heart, his young nephew. Rem, ah, Rem, your gray eyes, Rem, ah, Rem, hair the color of night, Rem, blade in hand and doubts in tatters, Rem, why couldn’t you sit at home. Remu, ah, Remu, your faithful arrows, Remu, ah Remu, your just cause, Remu, your fate is covered with white, Remu, but I will arrange everything differently.

Uri stands up, his step is firm and elastic, Uri measures his steps with a cane, Uri does not cry - this, of course, is just the wind coming from the west, fresh, spring.

You know, this is how it happens that often we suddenly understand what we are going to do now. Uri is coming, the village is already empty. Uri, howling, calls the elders to battle.

*

Remu fights with the wild demeanor of a tiger, the battle is hopeless, terrible, almost lost, all he has is the strength to gather himself and jump!... So many enemies - it’s as if you can’t count them... His gaze is bright, precise, sharp as razor - many fell in a useless battle, but there are worse things than being killed - surrendering to mercy and dying in dishonor. The arrows are singing - but we held on well, good luck to us - as if the enemies were fleeing! Death is already close - can you feel its sting? The heart is fluttering - a butterfly on a needle. The blood on the blade, frozen, casts copper. Eh, the wind howls. Only...is it really the wind? Someone is rushing with gray fanged death. There is confusion in the enemy camp and cries of “Wolves!”

*

Remu, don’t call me, hush, hush, Remu, love your wife, have children, Remu, ah, Remu, what can you do now, the enemy would not have fled if I had not been there. Remu, what are you, don’t be sad, don’t be, Remu, you feel - I will be somewhere nearby, I will follow with a flickering wolf’s gaze somewhere on the starry edge of the steel sky.