Bow before the grim moon
The realm's silvery-faced watcher
Arquaint the inward fiery inhuman dismay
The kingdom of cold might
Overwhelming dark eminence
Disallows the impure undignified to enter
This land is a ritual sumptuous robe
An external layer to assimilate by the crowd
Unmitigated aspect hidden for undesirable sight
A gate to be forced by the somber nobility
A hypodermic permanent eclipse
That none with their inert rejoice
Ever felt the fraction of
This land has persisted immense
Thrust of desecrating burdens
As they tried to deprive its very core
By raising their abhorrent lucid shrines
Yet endured the obscure entity
A retribution force
Each meadow will own the gallows
For grotesque brood of God
Silver stream sinks through wooden stained glass
Paints my face a pattern of inconstant ambience
At the mystical bound
The luminosity dares not to stride
At the glorious time
When no human dare to disrupt
I hail the enchanted fullmoon that ascends
Over the eastern Mazovian woods...
