Incantations of the Wild Women of the Outer Lindees

They sing and scream, whisper and laugh, hop and dance. They are simple, as women-folk ought to be, but also Dionysian, frenzied, wild; free. They dance (in step, in groove), and all the while they chant this silent spell:

Who are you to tell us how
The rain descends and drains, and now
To guide our life and to endow
Us with your gifts of piercing sight
To speed us on this rhythmic flight
To bathe us in Divine delight
You are Krim, you are Krim

Who were we, we puny souls
We roamed & danced with unknown goals
So dutifully playing roles
That lonely, un-examin’d life
Was married, yes: confusion’s wife
Through empty years of pain & strife
We were Lost, we were Lost

But then You came, and You perceived
How all of us had been deceived
And so in our minds conceived
The ancient, magikal idea
Of how Our’Earth has come to be
You taught us all to truly see
We were Saved, we were Saved

So who am I to ramble on
Now that my sorrows, all, are gone
Regrets, remorse, concerns; no, none
And even as the stars grow dim
When I am drained of Life & vim
My Death is blessed by Father Krim
Majahi, Majahi

wedancedwithdeath
Oh, oh, what step, what groove!

Yes, they were wild and free, yet Melankolie was their earthly destiny. Is their spell not like those of Old Krimälainen?

Announcing “A Complete and Contemporary Histobiography of the Many Great Krims”

Almond Grove
Almond Grove

The Targu Mures Historical Society is proud to announce that it will be releasing an English edition of the great scholarly and spiritual work A Complete and Contemporary Histobiography of the Many Great Krims by the reclusive Rau Cartuar.

Previously published in various journals spanning several languages (Romanian, Hungarian, Sudovian, Saxon, several Slavic tongues and even Turko-Arabic), this will mark the first time his writings on the subject of Krim Rosü is collected and concisely presented. To our knowledge, this is also the first professional translation of the writer into English.

The collection, sequentialisation and translation of Cartuar’s considerable body of work is no small task, but the Targu Mures Historical Society is proud to take this powerful step on the demystification of Krimean knowledge; sharing the story, the glory, with the wide world.

A Complete and Contemporary Histobiography of the Many Great Krims is due for publishing by Targu Mures Press & Publishing and expected for international release in 2017. Visit our website when the release approaches for more information on ordering details.

Ingo Schweitzer, the possessive Prussian (Chapter 1)

Being Chapter 1 from Part 3 of "The Armed Forces" by Jan C. Zločin. 
Ostuda Press, Brünn, 1942.
Now in the public domain.
This excerpt translated from German by the Targu Mures Historical Society.

Ingo

Suum cuique

Despite his family name suggesting Swiss or Austrian origin, Ingo Schweitzer had always been (and ever would be) a Prussian in soul and heart. Indeed, his body was cut from that firm and strictly northern stock that in more ancient times so terrorized mighty Rom herself.

A weathered, leather-bound notebook (which I acquired in what is likely the muskiest of all bookstores in temperate Europa) bears his name on the first, second and final page. Its narrative ends on these words:

I have traveled the ever-expanding recesses of this state since its modern inception and never have I felt more lost than I am now.

How does it begin, you ask? In time you will know, but for now we must step even further back and examine the somewhat peculiar circumstances that would later propel Mister Schweitzer onto his unfortunate wanderings. To properly admire a painting, I find, one should always start with the frame.

Ingo suffered through an unusually slow and long adolescence in an unimportant town of exactly average size. At 17, he refused to follow his father Aloys (as Aloys had once followed his own father, Johann, and as Johann had followed his father, Martin, and so on) in the moderately prosperous family business of tailoring and cobbling. Instead, Ingo opted to join the local regiment in the city of Elbing. Aloys passed away two years later; with him crumbled also the family business and, ultimately, his stubborn branch of the long Schweitzer lineage. Content with being a disappointment to his kin, Ingo never returned to his hometown, instead focusing all his youth and effort into a budding military career. Ingo stood tall, a young man in flower, but all that shines must dull in time.

At the age of 21, Ingo was expelled from the Akademie for reasons that have never have become quite clear. Explanations and rumors among his acquaintances varied wildly: boredom, involvement in some petty crime, even an unhealthy interest in the occult.  Some suggested the expulsion as something of a mutual agreement between the senior staff of the Akademie and Ingo himself.  No matter the motivations, we know that in the very same year, one Ingo Jakovius Blestemat Sweitser purchased the estate Mare Gramada near the city Targu Mures (now in Hungary [Translators note:  Romania since the end of the second world war]) from its previous owner, Igal Migdala, head of the recently impoverished Migdala family.

The local populace did not at all welcome its new citizen (“Lord”, some mumbled bitterly). Tensions were high in Europe at that time, as they are today, and a German controlling one of the primary estates of the region was not at all agreeable to the stubborn inhabitants of the Mures valley. Claims were made, some say fabricated,  that the land was stolen from Migdala, or that the initial negotiations had involved some kind of trickery, and even that Blestemat had the aid of supernatural  forces and intended to use Mare Gramada in ceremonies of sacrifices to the heathen deities of the old north; the mighty sky-gods once worshipped in his homeland, long before the Baltic crusades: Nerthus, Wodanaz, Kurim Jakos, and that Ingo was loyal to Widewuto, mythic king  of the Pomesanian clans

Widewuto and crew

While wildly imaginative and greatly exaggerated, we can not deny that in these rumors there is a kernel of truth, albeit obscure, an almond enshrined or entombed in protective bark-like layers. Among the vague scribblings of the first pages of his notebook we find a prayer of invitation in old-Sudovian, beckoning Kurim Jakos and his host to visit the world of mortals again:

Beigeite beygeyte peckolle
Kails naussen gnigethe
Beigeite beygeyte peckolle
Kails naussen gnigethe Kurim Jacove

We will find that even though Kurim might not have visited ours, this plane of base physicality, Ingo certainly did visit Kurim’s. For better or worse, for doom or salvation, Ingo was to be a man both possessed and possessing.

Krim Jacob and the Demons of Old

They say he walks these woods,
and in these dark winter days I must meet him

Yes, so are the words of the wise man Jakko, who dedicated his life to the pursuit of truth and blessings.

Nicolaus and Rosu and the cave-dwellers
only laugh at my despair

He would not be granted a single blessing. The truth he found, he was not prepared to face.

I leave the safe hearth fire
and throw myself into his domain

Folklore has it a single star twinkles, dull, each and every year.

 I know, Krim Rosu
that you are here
somewhere

Deep Krim of the Mountain

There were joints, but there was no displacement. Yanchal Krimeli saw dust and traces of legends past, but there were no legends on the map; for whom or for what? An abomination!

Before him stood a most disfigured being, one of coal and the deepest minerals of our Earth, a creature of the night gone into hiding, hopefully for time eternal; but not so: folded as a blanket, there were some and some others, some as layers, som as people, some as lawyers, who were they and for whom did they work? They were not for Krim; he was not for them. It is not a straight value – as much is certain. Recent events, did however bring to question and consideration the very essence of truth and the falsability of truthness: if nothing is, then what is not?

The taste of the tamed and awful. The crimson oxen! At what shalt one look at? Twisted creatures of nature – behold thyself – look no further! And thus did Yanchal look himself in the mirror, and indeed he did gaze into eternity; for nothing would mirror such a face (or fate) as his; the very damnation: an ungodly being in an ungodly world – no sanctuary would be granted, even beyond the pearly gates yonder.

And then the great wall descended upon Yanchal himself, and Yanchal ran into the darkness along the long and forsaken road along the mountain in which he had looked and forgotten, but the mountain had not forgotten Yanchal. “Stare into me! Face me, face me you becursed being, you blessed born of the light! I am the darkness of the mountain, the chains of the earth!” And Yanchal did not stare, merely smile, and he walked further and did awake many a demon of Satan.

So he ventures on; gazing into orogenies of the forgotten past; the chain building events that never will be remembered nor witnessed in evidence nor quasitruth or real thruth or the given circumstances. There is no truth, only the truth which one can gaze upon but not grip, and behold – the Beast as if frozen and freed; forth sprung a most hideous dweller of nighttime: the idea of our salvation and the basis of God – ungodly as Messiah and doomed as Metusaleh to weakened age. It is no thing on which we lightly speak in circles of Mystics, but in times demanding, we kneel and yield: I shall tell you of the ancient roamer; the wanderer (and harbinger) of our sorrow:

The void granted him no sanctuary – “there shall be no rest for the wicked on earth”, and wicked he was, that raven of old revenge. That which has no beginning will have an end, but Krim is not of beginning, nor of end; Krim is forsaken; Krim is the ingredient – “the forisiack and mohemiack – call your curtain upon me, gruesome beast!” Cain! Cain! I call you! Empires may wax and wane; yet did the struggle of Krim and the Ungod remain unresolved – no man would interveen without total destruction of his own and only soul – and hither and tither did they roam in battle; ravaging the villageside and many a field of harvest. Fold thy barins! Crack and fault! There is no direction in which you can thrust, only the web which the spider does not crawl nor reside in; for as long as the cobweb remains virtual, remains Krim – that which has been for a very long time.

Thus we conclude; grab thine sword and man the ramparts! See now that the Ungod is upon you, and fight with the Deep Krim of the Mountain!

– Jakko Krimälainen, early scriptures

Where I see a tall mast in the woods…

sword?

Nerich proposed the death of my father
Firefighters and prayer against the enemy;
My spirit is pleased,
My arm is strong

I like the first of many storms
This is a charming valley, you fence me in
Exciting places to see
Spring Valley, shine in my mind

Ground and the celebratory mood
Beautiful nature of culture and 13
I saw the wagonwheel could barely walk
Now, I flew from the water.

He then congratulated his country
His sword is the vagina.
Blow! Therefore, they sing, I sing,
A coward, who has the sword.

Fire and sword, never come into contact;
It seems that everything must grow fierce!
Who really believe in birth?
When the bees are seven; permanent gene

Crimean poem translated on behalf of the Targu Mures Historical Society by Douglas Rogers

Folanés Folley

Folley

The man went to eat Vea.
Then he sat in a grove of crow, and he speaks:

“He thought to himself:
Will think of crow kill you?”

A man who turned his horse,
so is the economy at home.

Listen to what my husband ask:
When the tree it is?

I drove it not to blood.
On crow he swore to kill him.

Oh, I heard the greatest shame!
Did you hear that Raven can kill a person?

But the crows came in into the house and cried.
And the man who crawled the hole.

A man who drew his bow to knee,
so straight a shot he fell.

It’s so interesting, it leads Folané.
But the Raven, he cursed them all.

It’s so interesting, it leads Folané.
Crows who flew into the barn floor.

The skin thus produced twelve pairs of shoes;
best couple he gave his mother.

As Salty told “as drums and barrels,
and transmission is ones Christmas”.

Intestine, has twelve twisted pairs of wires.
My hand and head to fork is stuck.

Account used in the temple vessels.
So people can fly in the sea.

Im Mu’n use; “may Maya gain
and his ears are right” will probably tutor.

In his eyes, life is like glass.
His neck and saw, “depends on whether the church with dignity”.

Children are used as the crow.
It is not a straight value!

Poem from Matrice de Granit, interpretation by mystic Jacob Becher; literal translation by Stanislav Peev.

Krim Fundamentals – Insomnia and insanity

weeping for it is

Stepping through a door and walking the land, our subject finds himself for the first time in his life making new footprints rather than reinforcing those of old. Seeds sprout from blood and the mind is in turmoil, for it has not yet accomplished that which will give the only peace of mind for a seeker.

He walks the great ocean and does not sleep..

As written by the 16th-century scholar Tän Anghér in his last work: “Lord Krïm, Wanderer, Seeker”.