The hatred of humanity return to call us,
the ancient rites forgotten emerge from the evergreen oak,
now is the time to chance the leader breed,
the Troos of Darkness will come with the longest night.

Since past time is written,
the man tried to eliminate us,
the roots of woods still live,
transmit the suffering.

From entranly of Earth we'll emerge
to cross out the image
of arrogance to us
and we'll sow the night again.

We invoke to the nature, and give the signal
to legions of deers riding by the large plane,
the last jokies of darkness, died in the oblivion,
return to ride over his ungulated,
armed with bone swords, sharped on deepest stones
with coral armours the victory is near.

A night, a new battle.
A crop, a battle field.
A forest, a won fight.

No more sovereighty over the Earth,
a mammal which cannot see at night,
a specie wich only see fast destruction
and don't think in sacred legacy…

Troops of Darkness,
come and carry them,
cross out the hipocresy,
reigning the avian again.