Текст песни The Camp of Souls (Aesma Daeva) с переводом

My white canoe, like the silvery air

O’er the River of Death that darkly rolls

When the moons of the world are round and fair

I paddle back from the Camp of Souls

When the wishtonwish in the low swamp grieves

Come the dark plumes of the red singing leaves

Two hundred times have the moons of spring

Rolled over the bright bay’s azure breath

Since they decked me with plumes of an eagle’s wing

And painted my face with the paint of death

The camp of souls

The camp of souls

And from thy pipe o’er my corpse there broke

The solemn rings of the blue last smoke

Two hundred times have the wintry moons

Wrapped the dead earth in a blanket white

Two hundred times have the wild sky loons

Shrieked in the flush of the golden light

The camp of souls

The camp of souls

They chanted above me the song of grief

As I took my way to the spirit land

For love is the breath of the soul set free

So I walk a river that darkly rolls

That my spirit may whisper soft to thee

Of thine who wait in the Camp of Souls

When the bright day laughs, or the wan night grieves

Come the dark plumes of red singing leaves

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