The night's dark, it's raining, and the skies
are shadowed, borders of their gothic town cut through the dark
High towers and sharp roves rise, disappearing in the dark.

The square is full of gallows with ropes,
carrying the dead that rock in the wind...
Hooks violently tear their bodies and legs to pieces...

At an alarming sound of the bells death arises...
Death arises from dreams
With you, fires and bayonets
So many heads have been taken with them...

...as if they were roughly picked flowers.
Deep cough of desolate cannons
counts the groans of passing hours.

Here comes one.

Absurdity is sensed in the fires burning
and in the cries full of strength.
See this fresh blood from each vein,
feel that savage fear from tension:
Chaos doesn't rule long
and everything calms down,
gets back to the centuries of its wait
in the realm of dreams

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