Ne cheama pamintul - Agathodaimon

to you I now descend, oh you, deluded souls.

and to purge your sorrow, you forlorn spirits,

the curse I shall invoke

the misanthropic curse, with its sordid, purple claws

to carve your forehead, instead of cattlebrand

with iron burnt in fire

in vain will pride be seethed in veins dried up and scorched

in death-swallowed eyeballs, on foreheads purple-hued

by putrid blood that died

what can I ever chose from your exhausted entity

no fires free from dying, no undeceiving right

oh, you dead men walking

see, how urns now burst, the ashes resurrect

alike the past, which murmurs with the battle-cry

of the roman empire

see the far-off shadows, they dress in steely armour

and raise their noble foreheads that gone grey

great traian and great cesar

the rotten thrones are crumbling swept by tempests waters

the rulers iron scepters, the heavy chain of slaves

together are now crushed

the gates of the inferno outrageously wide-opened

engulfing now by thousands the filthy, depraved breaths

of tyrants grim who perish

oh, holy visionary minds, who set the stars to sing…

who create another world on this realms of mud and grime

fools and wise, young and old, sound, soul and light

all is dust, the world’s like this, and so we all are