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Bathory Aria |
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| Snuffed tapers sighed | Velas queimadas suspiraram |
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As Death left impressing |
Enquanto a Morte deixara impressionado |
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His crest of cold tears on the Countess |
A crista de lágrimas frias Dele, na Condessa |
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| Benighted like ill-fated Usher | Incivilizada como o infortunado Usher |
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The House of Bathory shrouded |
A Casa de Bathory amortalhada |
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'Neath griefs dark facade |
Sob os pesares da fachada escura |
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| If only I could have wept | Se ao menos eu pudesse ter chorado |
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In mourning by Her side |
Em luto ao lado Dela |
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I would have clasped Her so tight |
Eu a teria abraçado com força |
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Like storm-beached Aphrodite |
Como a tempestade praiana de Afrodite |
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Drowned on Kytherean tides |
Afogada nas marés Kytherianas |
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| And Kissed Her | E a teria beijado |
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For from Her alone |
Pois dela, sozinhos |
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My lips would have known |
Meus lábios teriam reconhecido os |
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Enigmas of shadowy vistas |
Enigmas de vistas sombrias |
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| Where pleasures took flesh | Onde os prazeres tomaram a carne |
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And pain, remorseless |
E a dor, sem remorsos |
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Came freezing the breath |
Vieram congelando a respiração |
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Of raucous life hushed unto whispers |
De uma vida rouca silenciada aos sussurros |
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| Benighted. | Incivilizada |
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| Inhaling the pale waning moonlight that crept | Inalando o pálido luar minguante que rastejara |
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Through the crypt of Her Lord who so lucidly slept |
Pela cripta do Marido Dela |
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Que tão lucidamente adormecera |
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| Benighted. | Incivilizada |
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| Exhaling the wail of black widowhood's toll | Exalando o pranto do preço a pagar de sua viuvez negra |
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Waxing eternal night entered Her soul |
Encerando a noite eterna que entrara em Sua alma |
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| Now haranguing grey skies | |
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With revenge upon life | |
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Gnathic and Sapphic | |
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Needs begged gendercide | |
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| Delusions of Grandier denounced the revolt | |
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Of descrying cursed glass, disenchanted in vaults | |
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Encircled by glyphs midst Her sin-sistered cult | |
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| With hangman's abandon She plied spiritworlds | |
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To Archangels in bondage | |
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From light to night hurled | |
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Cast down to the earth where torment would unfurl....... | |
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| But soon, | |
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Her tarot proved | |
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Hybrid rumours spread like tumours | |
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Would accrue | |
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And blight Her stars | |
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However scarred | |
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To better bitter truths | |
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Of cold bloodbaths | |
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| As bodies rose | |
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In rigid droves | |
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To haunt Her from their | |
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Shallow burials imposed | |
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When wolves exhumed | |
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Their carthen wombs | |
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Where heavy frosts had laboured long | |
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To bare their wounds | |
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| To the depths of Her soul they pursued | |
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Wielding their poison they flew | |
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Like a murder of ravens in fugue | |
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| And knowing their raptures | |
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Would shatter Her dreams | |
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She clawed blackened books for damnation's reprieve | |
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Baneful cawed canons on amassed enemies | |
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| So Hallow's Eve | |
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As She received | |
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Like Bellona to the ball | |
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Those enemies | |
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Fell-sisters heaved | |
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Her torturies | |
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Cross stained flagstones | |
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To Her carriage reined to flee | |
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| But She knew She must brave the night through | |
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Though fear crept a deathshead o'er the moon | |
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Like a murder of ravens in Fugue | |
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| For each masked, jewelled gaze held dread purpose | |
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Horror froze painted eyes to cold stares | |
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And even Her dance | |
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In the vast mirrors cast | |
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Looked the ill of Her future | |
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If fate feasted there.... | |
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| In an age crucified by the nails of faith | |
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When rank scarecrows of christ blighted lands | |
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An aloof Countess born an obsidian wraith | |
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Dared the abyss knowing well She was damned | |
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Her life whispered grief like a funeral march | |
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Twisted and yearning, obsessed an entranced | |
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With those succumbing to cruelty | |
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Crushed 'neath the gait of Her dance | |
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A whirlwind of fire that swept through the briers | |
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Of sweet rose Her thickets of black thorn had grasped.... | |
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| She demanded the Heavens and forever to glean | |
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The elixir of Youth from the pure | |
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Whilst Her lesbian fantasies | |
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Reamed to extremes | |
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O'er decades unleashed | |
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Came for blood's silken cure | |
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| But Her reign ended swiftly | |
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For Dark Gods dreamt too deep | |
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To heed Her pleas | |
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| When Her gaolers were assailed | |
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With condemnations from a priest | |
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Who'd stammered rites | |
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In the dead of night | |
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For maidens staining winding sheets | |
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| And She postured proud | |
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When Her crimes were trowelled | |
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And jezebelled to peasant lips | |
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Though She smelt the fires | |
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That licked limbs higher | |
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To the tortured cunts of accomplices | |
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| So ends this twisted fable's worth | |
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And though spared the pyre's bite | |
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By dint of nobled bloodlined birth | |
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Her sins [crimes] garnered Her no respite | |
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| Forever severed from the thrill of coming night | |
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Where slow Death alone could grant Her flight | |
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| "The Spirits have all but fled judgement | |
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I rot, alone, insane, | |
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Where the forest whispers puce laments for me | |
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From amidst the pine and wreathed wolfsbane | |
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Beyond these walls, wherein condemned | |
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To the gloom of an austere tomb | |
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I pace with feral madness sent | |
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Through the pale beams of a guiltless moon | |
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Who, bereft of necrologies, thus | |
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Commands creation over the earth | |
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Whilst I resign my lips to death | |
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A slow cold kiss that chides rebirth | |
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Though one last wish is bequathed by fate | |
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My beauty shalt wilt, unseen | |
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Save for twin black eyes that shalt come to take | |
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My soul to peace or Hell for company" | |
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| My soul to Hell for company | |
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