Mølen

Mølen is Norway's largest beach of rolling stones, and is a part of Vestfoldraet: the terrain left behind after the end of the most recent Ice age around 10,000 years ago.

The wind and sea have lashed the landscape of Mølen for thousands of years, and the place takes its name from the Old Norse word "mol", meaning a stone mound or bank of stones.

Cultural history

The cultural landscape of Mølen, with its total of 230 Cairns, is one of the most majestic in Norway. The area has 16 large cairns, many up to 35 m in diameter, with almost 200 small cairns in rows parallel to the shoreline. In one of the cairns, burnt stones were found; this could be the result of a cremation dating back to the 5th century A.D. The small cairns may symbolize warriors who fell in battle or were shipwrecked together with their captain.

Plundering

The cairns furthest down towards the sea are from the Late Iron Age and Viking times, while those on higher ground are probably older; theoretically, they could be from the Late Bronze Age, as was previously assumed. However, recent research shows that all the cairns of Mølen are probably from the Iron Age. Almost all the cairns have one or more depressions from plundering or so-called "haugbrot". "Haugbrot" refers to ritual removal of the dead; the reason why this was done is not clear. The low boat-shaped stone setting was excavated in the 1970s. It is a grave where a ship had probably been burnt. Iron nails and carbon were found, and these have been dated to approximately 30?250 A.D.

Melsnuten

Mælen or Melsnuten is a mountain in the municipality of Suldal in Rogaland county, Norway. The 1,574-metre (5,164 ft) tall mountain lies in the northeastern part of the municipality, about 8.5 kilometres (5.3 mi) northeast of the village of Nesflaten. The mountain Trollaskeinuten lies just to the northeast of Mælen.

References


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Memalon

by: Sopor Aeternus

Who is the old man, who fills
my heart with greatest pain
yet his name remains unheard?
I look at you and true tears shake
my eternal Saturnworld.
Who is the old man, whose
picture burned itself
down to the bottom of my soul.
You push me back and raise me up,
the criteria for both I long to know.
Who are you I worship? What is the
name of the one I saw?
Tell me how to reach you, to you I'd
bow my head in awe.
You speak to me but what is it I hear?
We have never really touched...
- such is the design of my greatest fear.
Cruel, cruel, cruel... a veil I cannot penetrate,
in different worlds we dwell,
attempting to dissolve what separates.
I force my face against this strangest
membrane-wall and desperately I call for you
from the darkest depths of my lonely soul.
The mist of the dimensions
through which to glance it seems not allowed,
or maybe it's just that our "level" is of no
interest as it is simply too low.
Is it true that only the mirrors' strength
can conquer the mist and then be therefore received?
You turn around the illusion of a voice...
- my desire crowned by another defeat.
If doubt walks in I am growing weak in fear...
- "one day all pictures fade".
Lying down, looking inside
I call my dead lover in his grave.
My eyes have caught a glimpse of you,
now I devour myself to embrace your peace.
The distance grows, we drift apart.
What is the use of eyes if they cannot see?
Hear me in my darkness,
please wait for me, I'll find the way.
I promise, I shall resist the tides,




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