Quaresmal Tolkien #03


A banda do QT#03 é Wuthering Heights. Grupo dinamarquês que se formou em 1989, chega aqui com mérito, uma vez que, em 1992, trocou o nome da banda para Minas Tirith para gravar um K7 (fita cassete). Antes disso se chamava Angelica e depois, em 1995, Vergelmir. Em 1999, muda de nome pela quarta vez e fica como está até hoje.

“Wuthering Heights” também é um título muito famoso na literatura mundial traduzido no Brasil como “Morro dos Ventos Uivantes”, mas ao pé da letra seria algo como “Colina dos Vendavais”, algo assim. Apesar de se chamar Morro dos Ventos Uivantes, digo Wuthering Heights, suas letras não fazem alusão ao romance de Emily Brontë, porém pode-se encontrar com frequência referências folclóricas e religiosas e elementos da obra de Tolkien.

Sugestão do Thain [Léo Ferrari], a música escolhida é Longing For The Woods, uma suíte em três partes, as canções trazem elementos medievais e soa bem épico, consegue-se sentir ambientado num conto de Tolkien sem esforço.


Longing For The Woods

Part I – The Wild Children

In their veins still runs the blood of the wild
Deep within their hearts the earliest of songs
In their eyes the light of the first of days
But the road is hidden
And they are so far, so far away

Staring into darkness… Something stirs inside
A longing for something left long ago
Delving into darkness… Cannot stay inside
The moon is young and clear
And the fire is drawing them near

Now the wind calls
A storm from the past
Night falls
And they’re longing for the woods
They gather in the shadows
In their eyes a fire light
Warrioes and maidens fair
Binded by a love implied

Now the wind calls…

In the shade I stand and watch them
Like a scene from an ancient dream
Trying hard to awaken the Gods
In the hour of the fall
But it was long ago and it was far away
Will anyone hear the wild children’s call

Parte II – The Ring Of Fire

In my veins still runs tha blood of the wild 
Deep within my heart the earliest of songs 
In my eyes the light of the first of days 
But the road is hidden 
And I’m so far, so fara away

Turning another page in the book 
I’m beginning to wonder 
Does it get any better or worse that this

Searching for motiver to stop me from screaming 
Don’t know when I awoke 
Just know I was better off dreaming

I am the Wanderer 
I’ve seen many a shore 
But the road I long the most to go 
Is closed for evermore

Now the wind calls 
A storm from the past 
Night falls 
And I’m longing for the woods

I believe if I found the lost road back 
I would see myself in that ring of fire 
Maybe that’s what I fear the most 
For then I am now only a ghost

Now the wind calls…

I left my heart in the woods 
Will it ever be found again

Happy was I then and hopeful 
Trusted in the morning light 
Now the sun warms me no longer 
Though painfully bright

Roaming am I now and lost 
And buried down in the fire 
Could it be lit just one more time 
Then let it be my pyre

Now the wind calls…

Parte III – Herne’s Profecy

I met the old man
In the dephts of the woods
He said: I’ll show thee a bit of the future
If perchance thou wilt listen

The wanderer:
“The journey it has been so long
Is it the end that we feel drawing nearer
Though we keep learning more
Nothing sseems to get any clearer”

The hunter:
“Man he must search his heart
Though he will not like waht he findeth
I can tell him no truth
That he doth not already know”

“Turn the ghostship around
Climb back into the cradle
At least to die in dignity
Surrender now or be brought home in chains
The motherspirit will conquer all
With or without thee the kingdom shall fall”

The wanderer:
“Can it be done, can the gods be awoken
Can we rewrite the tale, is the cradle not broken”

The hunter:
“Not all the future is equally clear
If may be the end that you feel drawing near
Search in your hearts
If they still hold the truth
The voice from the past is the future
The longing for the woods”

And the old man, lord of the hunters of old
Disappeared in the depths of the woods
Left me with a strange sensation
That maybe one day
Maybe one day

The wind calls
A storm from the past
Night falls
And we are longing for the woods

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