Pe o intindere mai mare de o milase aflau infipte
inru-un urias semicerc sute de mii de tepi in care
atiranau ramasitele celor duaeci de mii turci
prinsi si trasi in teapa

Arsita zilelor de vara le putrezise aproape de tot.
Pasarile rapitoare ale carpatilor au napadit asupra
cadavrelor si si-au facut cuiburi in cranilie purtiite.

Ramasitele vesmintelor zdrentuite fluturau spre
Cerul inserat. Integrul tinut mirosea a moarte,
mirosul carnii care putrezza.

The countryside before me lies in the mist,
as our horns sound the hymns of winter,
a breeze of eternity comes to my eyes,
as armageddish northwinds enter...

My journey goes through the cosmic realms of abyssic frost,
through the superior pit no storm will enter,
an incantation opens the gates of eternal wisdom,
the highest glory thorugh the blackest depths of profanation.

Oh, I ride the whore with impetuous lust,
and bath my souls in a chalice of sorrow,
filled with wine and combined with thorns,
a funeral storm of darkness I join...

For years I searched the gates of the transylvanian chasm.
Dim and slow was the path until now,
but my own eternity comes closer,
as the funeral path ends at my crypt...

Stars before my eyes...

The cold light of carpathia guides me through the land,
the veils of doom chaime for my rise,
in pagan wrath,
as I begin to bleed... until end to cosmis lands...

The valleys of transylvania become my proud grave,
this armageddish view is now close...
...neverending winter....
...forever!