Theudho : Cult of Wuotan
Les paroles
1. ZEITENWENDE
Before the deluded teachings of the pale Christ infected our shores, our ancestors worshipped the old gods, the Æsir and Vanir. Traditions that sprung from ancient archetypes since the dawn of time served their societies well; indeed, few in those days could foretell the darkness of the ages to come.
Then, strange men in robes arrived. These men came from Eire, France, and Rome... They preached unnatural principles and morals, based upon a blending of distorted teachings from the Middle-Eastern and Asian world, and backed up by a so called Holy Book with divine authority; in reality, this book amounted to nothing but a bunch of misinterpreted and mistranslated manuscripts by various authors. None of these authors could claim divinity, as their apparent morality sent them to the inglorious way of all flesh, just as the other men and women over whose soul they sought to claim authority.
Although initially scorned and mocked, the new faith was finally imposed by force and deceit. Initiation in the ancient mysteries was no longer necessary: all one needed to do was kneel before the cross to receive salvation - thus proclaiming the death of the European folk soul. Thus the masses became sheep, the flock of God.
Still, as the fetid rabble clung to the crucifix and the decaying corpse thereupon, there were those that still held ancient traditions in high esteem. These men were not the thralls of foreign lords but rather proud adherents to the cult of Wuotan!
In the age before the coming of the Nazarene
Different principles ruled the earth
Men lived not by the grace of false ideals
But by the strength of their arms
And the sharpness of their swords
It was not the weak, the feeble and the cowardly
But the strong and the righteous
Who claimed the throne
Hear the whispers of your ancestors,
Feel them in your blood
Join us ... In the cult ... Of Wuotan!
2. TERROR CIMBRICUS
The Cimbri, a Germanic tribe, had left their Nordic homeland to wander to the south. To the marked displeasure of the Roman Empire, they arrived in Noricum (spanning modern Austria and Slovenia). The Roman consul Gnaeus Papirius Carbo agreed with the Cimbri that the Romans would lead them back north peacefully. Instead, the Romans turned to betrayal and led the Cimbri into an ambush. Ordered to kill without regard to age or gender, the Romans charged; yet, the Cimbri, adherents to the cult of Wuotan, fiercely resisted the Romans and even managed to defeat them. Legends speak of a terrible thunderstorm that waged as the battle progressed
Driven from the Northlands
The tribe of the Cimbri wandered
Spurred by their restless nature
Their destiny spun by the Norns
A pure and noble people
Strengthened by hardship
Led by the gods to the south
Towards the Roman border
Give the Romans nothing! - Terror Cimbricus!
Ontneem ze alles! - Terror Cimbricus!
Tod vor Unehre! - Terror Cimbricus!
Segra eller dö! - Terror Cimbricus!
Not prepared for betrayal
The Cimbri were deceived
Shameless Roman tactics
No honour in this defeat
Awaken the fury of Wuotan
In every beating heart
This fight we will not lose
No life in slavery
Give the Romans nothing! - Terror Cimbricus!
Ontneem ze alles! - Terror Cimbricus!
Tod vor Unehre! - Terror Cimbricus!
Segra eller dö! - Terror Cimbricus!
3. THUMELICUS
Many poets, historians and nationalists alike have sung the praise of Arminius, the liberator of Germania; however, very few have told the story of his wife, Thusnelda, and his son, Thumelicus. Thusnelda married Arminius against the will of her father, the Cheruscan prince, Segestes. Segestes sought the aid of Germanicus, who led eight legions into Germania in order to restore Roman rule. Thusnelda, then pregnant with the son of Arminius, was captured and handed over to Germanicus. She was shamefully dragged around during Germanicus' victory parade in Rome, while Segestes watched as an esteemed spectator. The son of Arminius, Thumelicus, was taken to Ravenna and trained as a gladiator; there he was able meet his end with a sword clenched tightly in his fist...
While the barley of Huginn
Lies unburried still;
Their bones picked clean by ravens
The liberator of Germania was betrayed
Wuotan gives and Wuotan takes!
A fate worse than death was her share
Thusnelda, a trophy for Germanicus
So Thumelicus was born
A slave of noble blood ...
Wuotan gives and Wuotan takes!
Able to meet his end
with the fire of Wuotan
clenched firmly in his hand;
the final path to Valhalla
There is no place for personal fame
There is only the thread spun by the maidens
Who dwell by the well of Urd
Steering your fate, towards glory or disgrace...
4. HARJAZ
To the invaders from the idyllic Apennine Peninsula, Germania was a disconsolate place. The long nights were only followed by short, cold and humid days. Mist hung between the trees of the gloomy forests and over the marshes. The Teutonic warriors, though disorganized, fought with great passion and fearless determination. During their campaigns, the Romans came across the Ha-rii (from the Germanic word harjaz, derived from the Proto-Indo-European *koryos, meaning warrior), a fierce Germanic tribe that chose to fight during the night, their bodies and shields painted black. The terrifying appearance of this ghostly army struck fear into the hearts of their opponents ...
Germania in chains, ravaged by wars
Life and death, governed by steel
In these times resistance is spawned
its grimness corresponding to the land
Death prevails on moonless nights
When men are turned to wolves
With blackened shields and swords
Harjaz from the underworld
The end is near when the night is black
and hailstorms scourge the land
When demonic warriors arise
Ghosts without a past
Eredication is at hand
When terror fills their hearts
and an icecold staggering gale
will carry their souls away
Rising from the soil like fog
Demise lurking in the dark
Warriors of Teutonic blood
Sworn to the gods of war
Germania unchained, eager for war
Their demise, delivered by steel
5. SILENCE REIGNED OVER THE BOG
During the Iron Age, they were condemned and sacrificed to Wuotan, Donar and Frô: criminals, prisoners of war, adulterers and otherwise undesirable elements of society. Strangled, sometimes decapitated, their bodies were sunk or even pinned down in dark, cold bogs. They were removed from the face of the earth - not necessarily to punish them, nor to avenge their victims, but to free fellow tribesmen from the burden of their degenerate influence. So the continuity of society was assured, according to the laws of the gods ...
Welcome to the bog, where silence reigns
Their existence ends here, it all comes to a halt ...
No place for cowards
No tolerance for the feeble
No respect for the unjust
No life for the unworthy
Along this deserted trail
Bordered by pagan idols
They take their final breath
As the noose is tightened
Kill them for Wuotan!
Kill them for Donar!
Feel your life slip away, darkening before your eyes
Feel the chill of the bog, becoming one with you
Welcome to the bog, where silence still reigns
Their existence ended here, it all came to a halt ...
6. THE FALL OF ROME
The English historian Edward Gibbon (1737-1794) attributed the fall of the Roman Empire to the degeneracy of the Roman citizens, mainly caused by the influence of foreign cultures and religions. In his work, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, he stated that the decline of Rome was the natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness. Prosperity ripened the principle of decay; the causes of destruction multiplied with the extent of conquest; and as soon as time or accident had removed the artificial supports, the stupendous fabric yielded to the pressure of its own weight.
Iron runs like blood through our veins
Our will as strong as stone
Born to rule these lands
Not to serve foreign lords
Immune to the venom of your speech
Not a part of the worthless mob
Unspoiled by outlandish gold
Not bound by oaths made by bastards
This is our awakening,
The dawn of Germanic pride
Never kneeling like a victim
Well aware that might is right!
Behold, the hour has come
Feeble, the frail flock writhes
Shred to pieces by wolves;
Hate proved stronger than chains
Empires rise - and they all fall;
Especially those led by greed
Where one corrupt predator
Is eager to devour the next
This is our awakening,
The dawn of Germanic pride
Never kneeling like a victim
Well aware that might is right!
Burn! Empire of decadence!
Burn! Cesspool of iniquity!
Burn! Hotbed of degeneracy!
Burn! And silence will prevail ...
Burn!
7. VELEDA
In De Origine et situ Germanorum, Tacitus makes mention of the prophetic gifts the Teutonic tribes attributed to some of their women. During the reign of Imperator Caesar Vespasianus Augustus, a Bructerian seeress named Veleda foretold the initial Teutonic victory in the Batavian revolt against the Roman empire. During this uproar in the province of Germania Inferior, the Batavian rebels humiliated the Roman army by destroying four legions ...
I see through the veil of time
I see the threads spun by the maidens
I see light where others see but darkness
I see the future as I've lived the past
Oh, Bructerian prophetess
Foresight is what we seek
Visions of times to come
Will the gods deal us defeat?
Will we dine in the other world
Or live yet another day
As free men, unchained
Liberated from their rule?
Sleep is dreaming of times to come
While I dream, weavers are waking
The rope they wind is what I know
Through my wisdom, truth is told
I see victory at hand
I see their unglorious defeat
I see ravens circling
I see them feasting on their meat
The time had come to seek our fate,
to rule or die for this land
With sword in hand, we rage on
Storm of steel; a sea of blood
Sword dew drenched the soil
as the dance of blades went on
Hear the cries of those subdued
Harvest of eagles and wolves
Sleep is dreaming of times to come
While I dream, weavers are waking
The rope they wind is what I know
Through my wisdom, truth is told
8. AHNENKULT
The missionary Wulfram had come to the court of the Frisian king Radboud to preach the teachings of the crucified Nazarene. As Radboud was about to step into the baptismal font, he asked Wulfram where his ancestors were, since they hadn't been baptised. The missionary could only reply that Radboud's unbaptised ancestors were damned. The noble king now refused baptism, stating that he'd rather burn in the fires of hell with his ancestors than go to heaven alongside the pallid prosely-tiser before him.
Senseless devotion is for the weak,
Clinging to the splendour of Christ
Hoping for illusions to prevail
Bowing to the cross while their brothers fall
Golden rules and alien laws
crafted for betrayal
These words act as a cloak
for the foulness of your creed
I'd rather go to hell
with my noble ancestors
than to reside in heaven
with the likes of you!
You claim to preach the word of God
The teachings of prophets alike
In reality your soul is stained;
Like the black heart in your chest
Deaf to the call of blood;
The voices of your fathers
Nothing but a meek-eyed thrall
Clinging to the gospel of decay
I'd rather go to hell
With my noble ancestors
Than to reside in heaven
With the likes of you!
Empires are not conquered
By martyrs and empty words
But by storms of steel and flame;
As decided in the iron game
Don't seek salvation for your soul
In foreign lords or hoards of gold
Heed the grim primordial law
Thou born of steel, not of straw!
9. WUOTANES HER
The personification of the storm winds, Wuotanes Her (The Furious Host), is the ghostly army that Wuotan leads through the night-sky. These undead men were once initiated in the cult of Wuotan; they were men who lived and died by the sword. How different it is with Christian men: they prefer the straw death, praying to prolong their petty lives as long as possible whilst avoiding heroism and the chance at a noble demise...
I feel the shame of him dying in his bed
For the glory of Christ,
Refraining from bloodshed
Pain did you avoid,
But how will you escape death?
Redundant human life, waiting for the end ...
Can't you feel the anger in your blood?
Can't you see the deceit of God?
Can't you see the despair of your foes
As their worthless blood flows?
I eternally blaspheme the Holy Ghost
I spit in the face of your pathetic God
I walk the path of the warrior
And hallow myself to Wuotan
Hear the howling of the wind
In this cold winter night
The storm carries the spirits
Of those initiated in the cult of Wuotan
I hail the downfall of this sickening world
Where the meek prey upon the strong
The shadow of the cross blinds all light
Eternal darkness is what your god brings
Can't you distinguish truth from lies?
Can't you hear their painful cries?
Can't your hear the hatred in their words
As the legacy of your people burns?
I eternally blaspheme the Holy Ghost
I spit in the face of your pathetic god
I walk the path of the warrior
And hallow myself to Wuotan
10. PROPHECIES IN FIRE
From Hliðskjálf, Wuotan and Frîja were observing King Geirröd Hrauthungson. He and his older brother were respectively raised by Wuotan and Frîja, disguised as peasants. Geirröd returned to his father's kingdom where he would later claim the throne, while Agnar dwelt with a giantess in a cave. Frîja taunted Wuotan by stating that Geirröd had the habit of torturing unwanted guests. In order to settle the dispute that followed, Wuotan agreed to visit the court of Geirröd in disguise. Subsequently, Frîja sent a messenger to Geirröd in order to warn him of a malicious magician that would seek entrance to his court. He could be recognised easily, since no dog was fierce enough to leap up at him. Wuotan, in the guise of Grimnir, was captured by Geirröd. Refusing to speak, Geirröd put hem between two fires for eight nights. Only Geirröds son, Agnar, gave Wuotan a horn from which to drink, making known his disagreement with the torture practices of his father. Wuotan now prophecised that Agnar would become king and foretold Geirröds death before revealing his identity. Hastingly trying to liberate Wuotan in order to correct his mistake, the king stumbled and impaled himself upon the sword that lay on his lap ...
Already eight nights this torment has lasted
Tied between two fires, without food I am
The man who no dog would dare to assail
The flames so fierce, scorching my cloak
Blessed be Agnar,
Bringer of the horn
No man on this earth
Easier gained favour
Much did you lose
Geirröd Hrauthungson
The help of the fallen
The favour of Wuotan
Wroth with thee are the Disir
Misled by friends art thou now
Dripping with blood a sword I see
Impaled on steel, thy reign will end
Those fallen by the sword
Wuotan now shall have!
11. ERGRIFFENHEIT
In the turbulent year 1936, the Swiss psychologist Carl Gustav Jung published an illustrious essay bearing the title Wotan. In it, Jung describes the ancient Germanic deity as a dormant archetype, awaiting the right time to return, as a volcano thought to be extinct: It was not in Wotan's nature to linger on and show signs of old age. He simply disappeared when the times turned against him, and remained invisible for more than a thousand years, working anonymously and indirectly.
Jung saw archetypes as river-beds which dry up when the water deserts them, but which it can find again at any time. An archetype is like an old watercourse along which the water of life has flowed for centuries, digging a deep channel for itself. The longer it has flowed in this channel the more likely it is that sooner or later the water will return to its old bed.
He concludes that Wotan must, in time, reveal not only the restless, violent, stormy side of his character, but also his ecstatic and mantic qualities. [ ] Things must be concealed in the background which we cannot imagine at present, but we may expect them to appear in the course of the future.
Oh, how do we long for the wheel to turn again
Dormant is his energy
He is the ghostly hunter
Who moves in silence
And stirs the wild heart to beat with rigour
He is the mythic king
Who finds the Grail
Riding on a storm of power
His dominion returns ...
Before the deluded teachings of the pale Christ infected our shores, our ancestors worshipped the old gods, the Æsir and Vanir. Traditions that sprung from ancient archetypes since the dawn of time served their societies well; indeed, few in those days could foretell the darkness of the ages to come.
Then, strange men in robes arrived. These men came from Eire, France, and Rome... They preached unnatural principles and morals, based upon a blending of distorted teachings from the Middle-Eastern and Asian world, and backed up by a so called Holy Book with divine authority; in reality, this book amounted to nothing but a bunch of misinterpreted and mistranslated manuscripts by various authors. None of these authors could claim divinity, as their apparent morality sent them to the inglorious way of all flesh, just as the other men and women over whose soul they sought to claim authority.
Although initially scorned and mocked, the new faith was finally imposed by force and deceit. Initiation in the ancient mysteries was no longer necessary: all one needed to do was kneel before the cross to receive salvation - thus proclaiming the death of the European folk soul. Thus the masses became sheep, the flock of God.
Still, as the fetid rabble clung to the crucifix and the decaying corpse thereupon, there were those that still held ancient traditions in high esteem. These men were not the thralls of foreign lords but rather proud adherents to the cult of Wuotan!
In the age before the coming of the Nazarene
Different principles ruled the earth
Men lived not by the grace of false ideals
But by the strength of their arms
And the sharpness of their swords
It was not the weak, the feeble and the cowardly
But the strong and the righteous
Who claimed the throne
Hear the whispers of your ancestors,
Feel them in your blood
Join us ... In the cult ... Of Wuotan!
2. TERROR CIMBRICUS
The Cimbri, a Germanic tribe, had left their Nordic homeland to wander to the south. To the marked displeasure of the Roman Empire, they arrived in Noricum (spanning modern Austria and Slovenia). The Roman consul Gnaeus Papirius Carbo agreed with the Cimbri that the Romans would lead them back north peacefully. Instead, the Romans turned to betrayal and led the Cimbri into an ambush. Ordered to kill without regard to age or gender, the Romans charged; yet, the Cimbri, adherents to the cult of Wuotan, fiercely resisted the Romans and even managed to defeat them. Legends speak of a terrible thunderstorm that waged as the battle progressed
Driven from the Northlands
The tribe of the Cimbri wandered
Spurred by their restless nature
Their destiny spun by the Norns
A pure and noble people
Strengthened by hardship
Led by the gods to the south
Towards the Roman border
Give the Romans nothing! - Terror Cimbricus!
Ontneem ze alles! - Terror Cimbricus!
Tod vor Unehre! - Terror Cimbricus!
Segra eller dö! - Terror Cimbricus!
Not prepared for betrayal
The Cimbri were deceived
Shameless Roman tactics
No honour in this defeat
Awaken the fury of Wuotan
In every beating heart
This fight we will not lose
No life in slavery
Give the Romans nothing! - Terror Cimbricus!
Ontneem ze alles! - Terror Cimbricus!
Tod vor Unehre! - Terror Cimbricus!
Segra eller dö! - Terror Cimbricus!
3. THUMELICUS
Many poets, historians and nationalists alike have sung the praise of Arminius, the liberator of Germania; however, very few have told the story of his wife, Thusnelda, and his son, Thumelicus. Thusnelda married Arminius against the will of her father, the Cheruscan prince, Segestes. Segestes sought the aid of Germanicus, who led eight legions into Germania in order to restore Roman rule. Thusnelda, then pregnant with the son of Arminius, was captured and handed over to Germanicus. She was shamefully dragged around during Germanicus' victory parade in Rome, while Segestes watched as an esteemed spectator. The son of Arminius, Thumelicus, was taken to Ravenna and trained as a gladiator; there he was able meet his end with a sword clenched tightly in his fist...
While the barley of Huginn
Lies unburried still;
Their bones picked clean by ravens
The liberator of Germania was betrayed
Wuotan gives and Wuotan takes!
A fate worse than death was her share
Thusnelda, a trophy for Germanicus
So Thumelicus was born
A slave of noble blood ...
Wuotan gives and Wuotan takes!
Able to meet his end
with the fire of Wuotan
clenched firmly in his hand;
the final path to Valhalla
There is no place for personal fame
There is only the thread spun by the maidens
Who dwell by the well of Urd
Steering your fate, towards glory or disgrace...
4. HARJAZ
To the invaders from the idyllic Apennine Peninsula, Germania was a disconsolate place. The long nights were only followed by short, cold and humid days. Mist hung between the trees of the gloomy forests and over the marshes. The Teutonic warriors, though disorganized, fought with great passion and fearless determination. During their campaigns, the Romans came across the Ha-rii (from the Germanic word harjaz, derived from the Proto-Indo-European *koryos, meaning warrior), a fierce Germanic tribe that chose to fight during the night, their bodies and shields painted black. The terrifying appearance of this ghostly army struck fear into the hearts of their opponents ...
Germania in chains, ravaged by wars
Life and death, governed by steel
In these times resistance is spawned
its grimness corresponding to the land
Death prevails on moonless nights
When men are turned to wolves
With blackened shields and swords
Harjaz from the underworld
The end is near when the night is black
and hailstorms scourge the land
When demonic warriors arise
Ghosts without a past
Eredication is at hand
When terror fills their hearts
and an icecold staggering gale
will carry their souls away
Rising from the soil like fog
Demise lurking in the dark
Warriors of Teutonic blood
Sworn to the gods of war
Germania unchained, eager for war
Their demise, delivered by steel
5. SILENCE REIGNED OVER THE BOG
During the Iron Age, they were condemned and sacrificed to Wuotan, Donar and Frô: criminals, prisoners of war, adulterers and otherwise undesirable elements of society. Strangled, sometimes decapitated, their bodies were sunk or even pinned down in dark, cold bogs. They were removed from the face of the earth - not necessarily to punish them, nor to avenge their victims, but to free fellow tribesmen from the burden of their degenerate influence. So the continuity of society was assured, according to the laws of the gods ...
Welcome to the bog, where silence reigns
Their existence ends here, it all comes to a halt ...
No place for cowards
No tolerance for the feeble
No respect for the unjust
No life for the unworthy
Along this deserted trail
Bordered by pagan idols
They take their final breath
As the noose is tightened
Kill them for Wuotan!
Kill them for Donar!
Feel your life slip away, darkening before your eyes
Feel the chill of the bog, becoming one with you
Welcome to the bog, where silence still reigns
Their existence ended here, it all came to a halt ...
6. THE FALL OF ROME
The English historian Edward Gibbon (1737-1794) attributed the fall of the Roman Empire to the degeneracy of the Roman citizens, mainly caused by the influence of foreign cultures and religions. In his work, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, he stated that the decline of Rome was the natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness. Prosperity ripened the principle of decay; the causes of destruction multiplied with the extent of conquest; and as soon as time or accident had removed the artificial supports, the stupendous fabric yielded to the pressure of its own weight.
Iron runs like blood through our veins
Our will as strong as stone
Born to rule these lands
Not to serve foreign lords
Immune to the venom of your speech
Not a part of the worthless mob
Unspoiled by outlandish gold
Not bound by oaths made by bastards
This is our awakening,
The dawn of Germanic pride
Never kneeling like a victim
Well aware that might is right!
Behold, the hour has come
Feeble, the frail flock writhes
Shred to pieces by wolves;
Hate proved stronger than chains
Empires rise - and they all fall;
Especially those led by greed
Where one corrupt predator
Is eager to devour the next
This is our awakening,
The dawn of Germanic pride
Never kneeling like a victim
Well aware that might is right!
Burn! Empire of decadence!
Burn! Cesspool of iniquity!
Burn! Hotbed of degeneracy!
Burn! And silence will prevail ...
Burn!
7. VELEDA
In De Origine et situ Germanorum, Tacitus makes mention of the prophetic gifts the Teutonic tribes attributed to some of their women. During the reign of Imperator Caesar Vespasianus Augustus, a Bructerian seeress named Veleda foretold the initial Teutonic victory in the Batavian revolt against the Roman empire. During this uproar in the province of Germania Inferior, the Batavian rebels humiliated the Roman army by destroying four legions ...
I see through the veil of time
I see the threads spun by the maidens
I see light where others see but darkness
I see the future as I've lived the past
Oh, Bructerian prophetess
Foresight is what we seek
Visions of times to come
Will the gods deal us defeat?
Will we dine in the other world
Or live yet another day
As free men, unchained
Liberated from their rule?
Sleep is dreaming of times to come
While I dream, weavers are waking
The rope they wind is what I know
Through my wisdom, truth is told
I see victory at hand
I see their unglorious defeat
I see ravens circling
I see them feasting on their meat
The time had come to seek our fate,
to rule or die for this land
With sword in hand, we rage on
Storm of steel; a sea of blood
Sword dew drenched the soil
as the dance of blades went on
Hear the cries of those subdued
Harvest of eagles and wolves
Sleep is dreaming of times to come
While I dream, weavers are waking
The rope they wind is what I know
Through my wisdom, truth is told
8. AHNENKULT
The missionary Wulfram had come to the court of the Frisian king Radboud to preach the teachings of the crucified Nazarene. As Radboud was about to step into the baptismal font, he asked Wulfram where his ancestors were, since they hadn't been baptised. The missionary could only reply that Radboud's unbaptised ancestors were damned. The noble king now refused baptism, stating that he'd rather burn in the fires of hell with his ancestors than go to heaven alongside the pallid prosely-tiser before him.
Senseless devotion is for the weak,
Clinging to the splendour of Christ
Hoping for illusions to prevail
Bowing to the cross while their brothers fall
Golden rules and alien laws
crafted for betrayal
These words act as a cloak
for the foulness of your creed
I'd rather go to hell
with my noble ancestors
than to reside in heaven
with the likes of you!
You claim to preach the word of God
The teachings of prophets alike
In reality your soul is stained;
Like the black heart in your chest
Deaf to the call of blood;
The voices of your fathers
Nothing but a meek-eyed thrall
Clinging to the gospel of decay
I'd rather go to hell
With my noble ancestors
Than to reside in heaven
With the likes of you!
Empires are not conquered
By martyrs and empty words
But by storms of steel and flame;
As decided in the iron game
Don't seek salvation for your soul
In foreign lords or hoards of gold
Heed the grim primordial law
Thou born of steel, not of straw!
9. WUOTANES HER
The personification of the storm winds, Wuotanes Her (The Furious Host), is the ghostly army that Wuotan leads through the night-sky. These undead men were once initiated in the cult of Wuotan; they were men who lived and died by the sword. How different it is with Christian men: they prefer the straw death, praying to prolong their petty lives as long as possible whilst avoiding heroism and the chance at a noble demise...
I feel the shame of him dying in his bed
For the glory of Christ,
Refraining from bloodshed
Pain did you avoid,
But how will you escape death?
Redundant human life, waiting for the end ...
Can't you feel the anger in your blood?
Can't you see the deceit of God?
Can't you see the despair of your foes
As their worthless blood flows?
I eternally blaspheme the Holy Ghost
I spit in the face of your pathetic God
I walk the path of the warrior
And hallow myself to Wuotan
Hear the howling of the wind
In this cold winter night
The storm carries the spirits
Of those initiated in the cult of Wuotan
I hail the downfall of this sickening world
Where the meek prey upon the strong
The shadow of the cross blinds all light
Eternal darkness is what your god brings
Can't you distinguish truth from lies?
Can't you hear their painful cries?
Can't your hear the hatred in their words
As the legacy of your people burns?
I eternally blaspheme the Holy Ghost
I spit in the face of your pathetic god
I walk the path of the warrior
And hallow myself to Wuotan
10. PROPHECIES IN FIRE
From Hliðskjálf, Wuotan and Frîja were observing King Geirröd Hrauthungson. He and his older brother were respectively raised by Wuotan and Frîja, disguised as peasants. Geirröd returned to his father's kingdom where he would later claim the throne, while Agnar dwelt with a giantess in a cave. Frîja taunted Wuotan by stating that Geirröd had the habit of torturing unwanted guests. In order to settle the dispute that followed, Wuotan agreed to visit the court of Geirröd in disguise. Subsequently, Frîja sent a messenger to Geirröd in order to warn him of a malicious magician that would seek entrance to his court. He could be recognised easily, since no dog was fierce enough to leap up at him. Wuotan, in the guise of Grimnir, was captured by Geirröd. Refusing to speak, Geirröd put hem between two fires for eight nights. Only Geirröds son, Agnar, gave Wuotan a horn from which to drink, making known his disagreement with the torture practices of his father. Wuotan now prophecised that Agnar would become king and foretold Geirröds death before revealing his identity. Hastingly trying to liberate Wuotan in order to correct his mistake, the king stumbled and impaled himself upon the sword that lay on his lap ...
Already eight nights this torment has lasted
Tied between two fires, without food I am
The man who no dog would dare to assail
The flames so fierce, scorching my cloak
Blessed be Agnar,
Bringer of the horn
No man on this earth
Easier gained favour
Much did you lose
Geirröd Hrauthungson
The help of the fallen
The favour of Wuotan
Wroth with thee are the Disir
Misled by friends art thou now
Dripping with blood a sword I see
Impaled on steel, thy reign will end
Those fallen by the sword
Wuotan now shall have!
11. ERGRIFFENHEIT
In the turbulent year 1936, the Swiss psychologist Carl Gustav Jung published an illustrious essay bearing the title Wotan. In it, Jung describes the ancient Germanic deity as a dormant archetype, awaiting the right time to return, as a volcano thought to be extinct: It was not in Wotan's nature to linger on and show signs of old age. He simply disappeared when the times turned against him, and remained invisible for more than a thousand years, working anonymously and indirectly.
Jung saw archetypes as river-beds which dry up when the water deserts them, but which it can find again at any time. An archetype is like an old watercourse along which the water of life has flowed for centuries, digging a deep channel for itself. The longer it has flowed in this channel the more likely it is that sooner or later the water will return to its old bed.
He concludes that Wotan must, in time, reveal not only the restless, violent, stormy side of his character, but also his ecstatic and mantic qualities. [ ] Things must be concealed in the background which we cannot imagine at present, but we may expect them to appear in the course of the future.
Oh, how do we long for the wheel to turn again
Dormant is his energy
He is the ghostly hunter
Who moves in silence
And stirs the wild heart to beat with rigour
He is the mythic king
Who finds the Grail
Riding on a storm of power
His dominion returns ...
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