Разные аудиозаписи проекта “Octopus” (“Nia Ou Veas”)

So nice and fluffy,
Not wise — not suffer;
Marten plays on fresh snow.
White fur scintillates
On light of midnight-moon,
With light heart
Marten plays on midnight.

Cold night — she plays,
Sun shine — same ways;
Marten plays still,
Marten plays on a hill.
Makes her animal deal,
Yonder, place of ant-hill.

Look around, marten
For started hunting.
Hunter lifts his
Fowling-piece;
Howling hound
Seeks around,
Ready for gory hunting.
Flee away, my little marten.

By the by, do you think
Is making mantle of marten is only possible?
Nothing a kind!
Do you know what a pretty sash
May turn out of a marten?

Стихотворение Ильи (он же Cold Deer, он же Колдырь; отчество-фамилию не помню, контактов уже нет; если набредёт и захочет — пусть свяжется, контакты есть на сайте)

So nice and black,
Neither alive nor dead,
Dennie plays the electric chair.
Long hair scintillates
In the light of the neon lamps;
With light heart Dennie plays
With the blackness of his face.

The highest voltage — Dennie plays,
Lower — looks for a hope to chase.
Dennie plays for a thousand years,
Makes his dead man’s deal,
Yonder, on the prison hill.

By the by do you think
That only a wire can be made out of a man?
Nothing of a kind!
Do you know that an electric bulb
Could be made out of the prisoner?
On the electric chair.
Everybody could be a burning scarecrow
In the electric nightmare.
Oh, yeah.

Close to your the finest kind
Lions bridge beyond this world
Is our way to lower mind
Play this game with me, my girl

Have a trip to ancient forest
Worms are waiting for the dawn
Sleep until you meet your own guest
Close the door when he is gone

Have a trip to ancient forest
Place of darkness, break the day
Have a picture of your living here
And stay