Towards the rich archaic heavens; towards the lack diorama 对富人古代天;对缺乏西洋镜

you are the artist and the texture 你是艺术家和纹理

that plays with the mantle of the Earth 随着地球的地幔起

   

When the bleakest of powders 当黯淡无光粉末

lie rooted to the starched stones 谎言根植于笔挺的石头

and roots that feed the peaking trees 和根为食的峰值树

embrace the sleeping shores 拥抱睡觉海岸

   

Archaic pearls of sleep and death 睡眠和死亡的古老的珍珠

the voice of December losing its breath 十二月的声音失去了呼吸

and the floweryard of whit and grey is haunted 而白衣和灰色的floweryard闹鬼

   

White as the down of flaking snow, 洁白的雪剥落的下降，

the heroic emblems of life 生活中的英雄徽记

   

Green is the color of my death 绿色是我的死亡的颜色

as the winter-guise I swoop towards the ground 随着冬季的幌子í飞扑向地面

Green is the landscape of my sorrowfilled passing 绿色是我的sorrowfilled路过的风景

   

We are In Flames, 我们是在火焰中，

towards the dead archaic heavens 对死者古老的天空

We are the mantle and the texture 我们是地幔和纹理

the alters the mantle of the Earth 在改变了地球的地幔