From the very depths of the darkest past
Amidst the first rays of father bel
Which caress the woodland’s edge

We ride around the cold mountain’s throne
And the black birds of battle…
Fly over green empires in respectful silence
Over the mountain of spiritual sacrifice

Black goddess’ mountains
Talk to me of pagan black virgins.
Totems of my forebears’ shaded forest

Lonely old mountains
So primitive and wild
Like the magma that emerges from the demons’ deep throat

All the enigmatic elements of nature
Beneath the great crowned star
In the congregation of the harvest fullmoon