the user Abschaum requested a translation of Hypothermia's albums Köld and Rakbladsvalsen, and here they are. i did put a bit more effort into these than i did with the lifelover - kunkurs translation.

Cold


1. Weak Physical Lust

The weak, physical, lusts of the flesh
what could possibly be weaker than this?
Perhaps the mind, but at least we can shape our minds..
manipulate! deprave.. pervert
the physical materia can only be destroyed and twisted
Like what I see as a reflection in the mirror, weak,
gross, disgusting, shameful, repulsive and detestable
heaps of flesh, ruined by carving, annihilated physical lust.
Possibly what you could call a body
I’m probably just as disgusted by myself as I am by you
We’re all empty entities, emptied of feelings, of happiness… happiness?
I have to say it’s an all too common word, what is happiness?
one to love you.. embrace you when night falls,
stroke their fingers through your hair, warm your lips with theirs,
love you.. make love with you. Is that your happiness?
This devout.. mental and physical weakness.
I would never associate something as ludicrous as that to such
a strong word as happiness. A never ending mystery, does it even exist?
Do I even feel? But what I do know..
empty, miserable, cold, frozen, always thirsting..
for your hate – your love.
The hate warms, it fills up the emptiness and erases the cold within.
only for some single seconds though, the mind remains cold as the winter night.
Delightful and calming cold, embrace me this lonely evening,
embrace me all these sleepless nights.. I welcome you with open arms.
I give you my weak and gaunt body,
nothing compared to your greatness.
My self hate is worship compared to the emptiness.
there’s only a crude shell left of me, left empty,
drained, hollow.. callous and destroyed by the cold


2. Blackened Passages

Abandoned buildings, dejected minds.
In sterile autumn coldness with repressed memories
Extensive, embracing regret, grants bleak inspiration
This night I’ve been wandering through blackened passages and sterile coldness
My mind is damaged beyond repair
I’m waking up, mentally raped and rejected.
Claws are carving in my bleeding flesh
and reminds me of the beauty within that of which I hate
The alcohol still has me in its grasp
and I put its desire into effect,
with a firm grip around my razor blade I
realize its will, and make it my own