Текст песни Ария - Аттила

His hand is small
But the whole world is trapped in it
Like a pitiful chick
Wounded with a claw.

And won't heal the wounds
His victory feast
Ugliness of the face
Will not hide the soot.

God's wrath
Scourge of heaven
Swallows sweat and dust
Life in the saddle
Death shine
On the edge of Destiny.

Vortex of the horde
I brought all evil spirits into one,
German or Scythian
The booty is divided.

Attila's bonfire smoke
Carries the plague with it
And a barbaric motive
Burns away faith

The west is here

At hand,
Kick the door with swords
Threw a cry
Steppe spirit
Angry Asian beast.

Above us a blue sky flag
There is no fear in the sparkle of cold eyes!
There are no rules in this dawn hour
Death will judge us before sunset.

Deadly love
Insidious fate
At a wedding feast
Celebrate funeral feast

Poisoned wine
Poison on his lips
Like a bitter kiss
Last in life

Throated hops
Throat blood
The savage drank all his life ...
Who now
Son of the Winds,
The king of the cruel Huns?