|
On this night of a depressive autumn |
|
Under branches of these old trees |
|
On this hour thy sign |
|
I glorify |
|
Black flame of |
|
Satan in my heart |
|
Fog is rising from the murky waters |
|
Carrying the stench of the swamp |
|
An owl is hooting, sounding afar |
|
As melancholy takes a grip |
|
I drink the blood of a virgin child |
|
From an old golden flask |
|
In my mind the |
|
Countess of |
|
Cachtice And the memory of terror she spread |
|
Bitter words utter from my lips |
|
Incantations of reincarnation |
|
With the blood thy sign |
|
I glorify |
|
Waking instincts of a wolf |
|
I am finding strength in the hate |
|
Misanthropic burning wounds |
|
As much as |
|
I hate the human pigs |
|
So I hate the flesh of my own |