The Music of Burzum and the
Writings of Varg Vikernes

Filosofem translations

Stories

Creeping and Crawling, Rustling and Fluttering

There are two natural lights in this world, the sun and the moon. The first distorts the appearance of the other, often until it is unrecognizable. The sun gives us colour, warmth and clarity, while the moon gives us no colour, coldness and unclarity. We live in the sunlight, and we make artificial sunlight, after Arvakr and Alsvinnr, sent by Sol, have drawn down the sun in sea in the West, because we like colour, warmth and clarity. The starting-point of our reality lies in this light; when Naglfaris' wife, Night, comes, our world disappears in a certain way. She is illuminated by a light, that we don't like, the colourless, cold and indistinct moonlight. Strange beings show themselves in the woods and the people draw back into their reliable, small houses. Out there, only the forces of darkness reign, yes, literally speaking. The world becomes a totally different one, for some the world becomes a place worth living. For those, who want to challenge these giants, who are brought to us by the moon in the shape of uncontrollable powers of nature, the world finally becomes a place really worth living in.

The Water-Spirit as a White Horse

A long time ago, in the time of the beginning, there was a power, that gave life and peace to everything, that grew and lived around it. This power existed in the entire North in small vegetation and lakes, and it always got something in return for the power that it emanated on the surroundings. This power was strengthened by animal sacrifices, fallen warriors and their pride, boats, that people had won after a battle with others, and every year a priestess was sacrificed to it, and also some slaves. It was strong, and as a result, its surroundings and those who lived there, became stronger, they grew and flourished. But so the power got no more sacrifices, the people were infected by a spiritual plague which deprived them of both knowledge and wisdom, the ancient knowledge sank deep into the sub-conscious. The power faded and sank deep into the abyss of dying small brooks and lakes in the North. Yet, it is still there, at the bottom of these cold and dark waters. In some places it is gone, expelled by stupidity and mistrust, in other places, it still exists. When it's night, the power lures animals and people in order for us to strengthen it again, so that the surroundings become as vivid again as they used to be, so that we may live in fortune and prosperity once again.

The Sea-Ghost

At night, if you walk out to the most remote isles close to the sea by the Norwegian coast, you can, if you are lucky, see the old Norwegian chiefs, who were lost at sea a long, long time ago. Even now they sail out there, and when the wind is strong, you can now and then see their floating graves, that pop up out of the waves and disappear again between the waves. You will notice their sad expression, and their look of longing. Some of them have sailed around out there for almost a thousand years, sailed around on the sea in search for a harbour at which to berth, a harbour willing to admit them with open arms. They are still looking for a friendly harbour, while their own harborus don't admit them; they are forsaken by their descendants, betrayed by their own children. I wonder, how long will they have to search, these betrayed men – our proud forefathers – until they find a harbour where they can land, a harbour that admits them and their old burden with open arms? For how long?

Mouse Town

With the spiritual pestilence from the South came also that which killed courage and honour. The light, as the pestilence was called, agonized countless men and women, forced them to die in their beds, not seldom of death from old age. Men, who could have won fame and honour by a worthy death on the battlefield were forced to die from old age. The forces of darkness were to be exterminated, war was a sin and no man were no more to kill another. There was peace, but no true peace, because the peace cost people more energy than any war could have cost them, an eternal peace is, namely, no peace, it is the differences which create energy. The light didn't warm them, it burned them; the light didn't let them see, it blinded them; the light sucked all energy out of them and they died in bed after a long, honourless life. The light brought them peace, God's peace, true Hell.
(Written sometime in the future)

Twelve Men in the Woods

In the Norwegian woods there is a troop of worthies, twelve of them, who people cast out with their deceit and were made lawless because of their beliefs. They travel around, visit the great people in the front ranks, and wait for the Honour and Pride of the people – their Chief – to return. Far away at the horizon they see him coming, by leaps and bounds to make the lewd people human again. He saw a blaze in a Norse sky, a light as true as the deceit of the Christian people. In the front ranks there are some in whose perceptibility he never disappeared, it was we who created a blaze in the Norse sky, strong enough for all of you to see it. When the Aegis gather on the Plain of Ideas they are thirteen: Odin and twelve of his sons – Forseti, Widar, Njord, Frey, Donar, Tyr, Heimdall, Bragi, Wali, Ull, Hoenir and Loki. They lead and reign well.

Lyrics

Jesus' Death

A figure laid on the ground
So malicious, that the flowers around him withered
A dark soul laid on the ground
So cold, that all water changed into ice
A shadow fell over the woods
As the figure's soul withered towards it
Because the figure's soul was a shadow
A shadow of the forces of evil

Tour Around the Transcendental Columns of Singularity

"The well of the region is no longer a dark depth, in which we stare, but a living stream, that fertilely flows through the lands of the North. Yes, to the highest visions of essence, this life can now elevate itself into development of it's true power and particularity, elevated to the father of all, who is up high in Valhalla, to him, the true god..."

(Johan Sebastian Cammermeyer Welhaven)



I apologize for any errors, but note that my native language is Dutch.
Greve Drake fra Goddess Of Desire (G.O.D.)
[email protected]
[email protected]
Metal to the Metals!!!
..only dead people are cool...

All lyrics and stories were written/presented by Varg Vikernes, translated by Greve Drake. Editing and HTML-conversion by Lord Kittenslayer. Revised by the Burzum.com staff.