Turisas

Spoken interlude:
As you sit in your quiet home, surrounded by peace, comfort and civilization, do you, listener, remember those memories, grand and tearful, which still, after hundreds of years, remain now radiant with the brightness of sunlight?
And now, darkening, like indelible bloodstains, the variegated pages of history, can your thoughts, torpid with repose, transport themselves back to the horrors and joys of the past? Not straying indifferently from one thing to another which excites your curiosity, but taking a warm and vital interest, as if you yourself stood in the midst of those struggles, now long since fought out. Bled in them, conquered or fell in them, and felt your heart beat with hope or apprehension according as fortune smiled or betrayed.
Standing on the heights of history, looking far around the wild arena of human destiny, can you transfer yourself into the well of the past? A life physically buried and decayed, but spiritually inmost, which constitutes the essence and substance of history.