Voice of the North Wind - Rúnasteinn

Описание: Music composed by Rúnasteinn

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Voice of the North Wind is a sonic journey into the deepest roots of the Celtic spirit.

A song built around the human voice as its core element, where the north wind becomes a messenger between the world of the living and the realm of the ancestors.
The lyrics, written entirely in Scottish Gaelic, evoke landscapes of stone, sacred circles, nameless forests, and forgotten memories.

This is not just a song – it is an ancient call.

The chant recalls a time when humankind, earth, and divinity were bound by the same breath.
Through deep drones, archaic atmospheres, and essential vibrations, the voice becomes the thread that connects the present to a past that has never truly disappeared.

This piece is born as a tribute to the northern wind – Guth na Gaoithe Tuath – symbol of primal strength, memory, and rebirth.

🎧 LISTEN WITH ATTENTION

Let yourself be guided by the ancient words,
close your eyes and follow the call:

“Seinn, seinn, a’ ghaoth fhuar…
Seinn tro fheòil is clach…”

Sing, cold wind.
Sing through flesh and stone.


Voice of the North Wind

Guth…
Guth na gaoithe…
Guth na gaoithe tuath…

Guth na gaoithe tuath,
A’ tighinn thar nan clach,
Fuar mar fhuil na talmhainn,
Sean mar chuimhne nam marbh.

Fo chraobhan gun ainm,
Fo speur liath an àrsaidh,
Tha ceuman nan sinnsear
Fhathast anns an ùir.

Seinn, seinn, a’ ghaoth fhuar,
Seinn tro fheòil is clach,
Fon ghealach shàmhach,
Tha an seann saoghal beò.

Clachan nan cearcall,
A’ cumail an rùn,
Chan eil ainm air an ùine,
Chan eil crìoch air an fhuaim.

Bho bheinn gu gleann,
Bho mhuir gu coille,
Tha an guth a’ siubhal
Gun chorp, gun sgàil.

Seinn, seinn, a’ ghaoth fhuar,
Seinn do sheann òran,
Fon ghealach chiùin,
Tha na diathan a’ dùsgadh.

Èirich… èirich…
A sheann fhuil…
Èirich bhon talamh…
Èist ris a’ ghaoith…

Chan eil crois an seo,
Chan eil solas ùr,
A-mhàin teine is clach,
Agus guth na tìre.

Bidh an ùir a’ cuimhneachadh,
Na dhìochuimhnich sinn,
Tha ar n-anam ceangailte
Ri fuil is freumh.

Seinn, seinn, a’ ghaoth tuath,
Seinn gus an tig an dorchadas,
Fon reul mu dheireadh,
Tha sinn fhathast an seo.

Clach is ùine,
Fuil is cuimhne,
Guth na gaoithe…
Gun chrìoch…

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Voice of the North Wind

Voice…
Voice of the wind…
Voice of the northern wind…

Voice of the northern wind,
Coming over the stones,
Cold as the blood of the earth,
Old as the memory of the dead.

Beneath trees without names,
Under the grey sky of ancient times,
The footsteps of the ancestors
Still remain in the soil.

Sing, sing, cold wind,
Sing through flesh and stone,
Under the silent moon,
The old world lives.

Stones of the circle,
Keeping the secret,
There is no name upon time,
There is no end to the sound.

From mountain to valley,
From sea to forest,
The voice travels
Without body, without shadow.

Sing, sing, cold wind,
Sing your ancient song,
Under the quiet moon,
The gods are awakening.

Rise… rise…
Old blood…
Rise from the earth…
Listen to the wind…

There is no cross here,
There is no new light,
Only fire and stone,
And the voice of the land.

The soil remembers
What we have forgotten,
Our soul is bound
To blood and to root.

Sing, sing, northern wind,
Sing until the darkness comes,
Under the final star,
We are still here.

Stone and time,
Blood and memory,
Voice of the wind…
Without end…

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