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