On the black wings of nightsky
The horde was riding across to me
And darkness slowly have risen
Under feet of them
My life is fallen to pieces by
Descending black fog
Which drains the fragments of lost
Ideas out of me
Breathing the air of the king’s clearing
I feel that I am uniting
With the essence of black forest
And cruel mother winter
At the cemetery
Of thousand tombs of false idols
In flow of morbid and terrific hate
I see the weak god in tears
And his son dripping with filthy blood
I desecrate them in possession of unholiness
The priests of compassion hanged
Fluttering in the winds of night
In hell created for them
By unholy beings
Only ruins remain instead of churches
Battlefields on their sacred places
Deathwinds are filling me
With this most beautiful vision
Candles enlighten the dark
And the fullmoon which appeared above
To enhance the funeral of forlorn ideas of christ
Which has been imbibed
By the pure black soil
And I became lord of woods and dark fog
Ultimate union in the shadow
Of wooden thrones
Has created mighty spiritual strength
And when the candles expired
And the moon became pale
I found myself walking to the
Gates of black heavens
Led by phantoms of the wood
And hateful storm
But now I was one of them…
