The flowers at eventide in the setting sun;
The twilight, the chill: opposing poles become as one.
Willpower and destiny: form and actuality.
The Leitmotiv of dignity: the rubric of activity.

Dumb forests and silent meadows lie dreamlike and earthbound.
The unity of cosmic pulse: a song devoid of sound.
Fortune and causality: tension and duality.
The splendour of polarity: the countersign of clarity.

The light of our bodies in the light of the world;
Servitude and freedom: lone wolf or huddling herd.
Essence and infinity: purpose and divinity.
Immemorial mastery of our ancestral memory;
Drinking light, we are life.
We shall not command the voices of the blood to be silent.


Passing through hallowed halls of history, monuments that cannot last,
As age-old values slowly drown in the echoes of a future past.
We pledge devotion and swear the oath, on bibles long forgotten,
To sacred laws of decay and growth, in nature's womb begotten.

All empires must fall, all cultures must decay.
But from the ruins blooms new life, green shoots against the grey
Of fallen empires.

Our noble spirits will never die, they arise and fly again,
Tearing to shreds the fateful lie preached by the priests of pain.
Victory waits at the edge of time, beyond rationale and reason.
The heirs of Crœsus and his crime are punished for their treason.

All empires must fall, all cultures must decay.
But from the ruins blooms new life, green shoots against the grey
Of fallen empires.

With souls of rebels here we stand, in suffering and sweetness.
Marching together hand-in-hand, we overcome all weakness.
Each interregnum has to end, all darkness is transition.
Into the white light we ascend, and come to our fruition.

All empires must fall, all cultures must decay.
But from the ruins blooms new life, green shoots against the grey
Of fallen empires.

Possibility and necessity, expansion and contraction:
The sovereignty over our destiny is the armour of our action…
Is the symbol of our satisfaction…
Is the cause behind this chain reaction… .


The colours of our love are blue and gold:
They blaze above us in the night.
And, in our hearts hide secrets yet untold,
Illumined by autumnal light.
Adorned with wreaths of flame,
Garlands of our desire,
Our voices will proclaim
The beauty of the fire - the dawn of our empire!

Creation's current courses through our veins:
Winter dispelled by our sunrise.
Shall we attain an everlasting reign,
And lay claim to the purest prize?
To guard forevermore
The crop of culture's creed;
To live unto the law,
At one in word and deed - from Mammon's Moloch freed!

A silver crown wrought from the darkest red,
From shoots of life that springtide sends.
Shoulder to shoulder with the holy dead,
Our aristocracy ascends.

The colours of our love are never known:
The beacons of their summer shine.
As essence ripens from the seed we've sown,
Our faith breaks through the wall of time… .


So this is the West, how wondrous it stands.
Its gleaming glass spires outshine all the rest.
How mighty its armies, how just its cause, drunk on innocent blood.
How pious its leaders, who, when they are dead, shall sit amongst the elect.

Yes, praised be the West that places its faith
In motor-cars, dollars and power.
This brave new world, this perfect dream, can never possibly turn sour.
Dignity lies forgotten and dying, replaced by shameless greed.

The stream turns to a stagnant pool,
Culture civilisation.
The cosmic flow of rise and fall
Becomes mechanisation.

If this is the West, I spit in its face.
We have betrayed our dreams,
Our values shackled and disgraced,
Neutered by this regime.
How we must strive to cast off the chains
Of this expiring creed.

With blood eternal in our veins,
Time triumphs over space.
The river runs, reverence reigns,
Crowned by godlike grace.

The flames of waking being remain,
And our sun will rise again.


Amongst the northern graves,
Where the hermit lies;
Beneath a southern sun,
Where honour lives and dies.
Breathing the changing seasons,
Seeking a thousand reasons:
The eternal man
Of yesterday.

We offer resistance!

From the cliffs by Campagna
To long-forgotten shores;
From the spires of Helios
To where the Condor soars.
Deep within the lion's den,
Approaches with sword and pen:
The Field-Marshall
Of the spirit.

We offer resistance!

Upon the mountain-top,
The lone-wolf wakes and waits:
The father of our dreams
And master of our fates.
A powder-headed saviour,
Lauded with laurels of love:
We may not need the nation,
But she's in need of us.

Solidarität, Freiheit, Stolz, Ehre:
Die Erhabenheit neuer Göttlichkeit ist unsre Lehre.

Wir leisten Widerstand!


The birth of the world from infinite space,
Imbued with the breath of life.
Beneath swarming stars lie means and aim:
Our process and our goal,
Conjured from the vortices of swirling time;
The irreducible archetype of the soul.

The will to culture, to be one's own God:
The quantum of our pride;
Our liberty, our loyalty,
Our grandeur and our doom.
We apprehend the horizon of whirling time,
And steel the striving of our souls.

Arising and passing, decay and growth;
Exalting, destroying - this Faustian oath!

Engulfed by hurtling tides of history,
We stand against the waves of slaves.
To seek the nameless, boundless mystery;
The greatness of the grace that our hearts gave!

The hubris of Prometheus is the mantle of our might.
The hour of decision looms on the razor edge of night.


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