Скачать или смотреть Song of Stones 432hz | Celtic Folk Metal

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Before the first dawn kissed the emerald hills,
when gods still walked barefoot upon the earth,
there was a voice beneath the stones —
a breath older than time itself.

“Song Of Stones” is a song of Ireland’s ancient soul —
of Danu’s rivers and Brigid’s fire,
of Dagda’s laughter echoing through the mist,
and the Morrígan’s wings cutting through the twilight.

It tells of a land where every rock remembers,
where the wind carries prayers in forgotten tongues,
and where the divine hides not in heaven,
but in the heartbeat of the forest,
in the rain that weaves life through stone and moss.

Forged between myth and melody —
born from AI and human craft alike —
this song is a bridge between worlds,
where memory becomes sound,
and the sacred breathes once more.

🌧 Listen — the earth still sings.
🔥 For the gods of the North have never left us —
they merely whisper now,
through the wind and the rain.

[Verse 1]On northern hills where mists lie deep,
The stones still whisper ancient names.
From their heart rises the sound of time,
When gods walked the fields of men.
Danu breathes within the waves,
Her hair are rivers, her voice — rain.
In her hands the world was young,
And earth still knew her pulse.


[Verse 2]Dagda played a harp of yew,
His laughter stirred the hidden flame.
Brigid wove light into the dark,
So shadows would not drown the soul.
Beneath the skies of bronze and silver,
Warriors wandered — and spirits too.
Each stone was a prayer,
Each wind — a memory.

[Chorus]Listen — the land still sings,
The waters remember every step.
The gods did not vanish into night —They hid within the forest’s breath.

[Verse 3]In valleys where ravens cry Morrígan’s name,
Death and life dance as lovers.
Lugh, in the blaze of dawn,
Lifts the sun from the sea of sleep.
And when the night falls without a word,
The shadows rise in silence,
As if time itself were praying
To the stones that remember all.

[Final Chorus]Listen — the land still sings,
Beneath its voice the circle turns.
Not in prayer, but in rain,
Lives the spirit of Éire.



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