In the darkness before dawn
I walk into ice gales
where dry foliage leads me
falling down along the mournful streets.

The river Styx of my hair
winnows in the wind.
Dreams terrify the heart
coming from the dark in the time of cries.

Fog is kneeling upon me
and the sun is falling down as a drop of blood
from sacrificial knife into a chalice.

The sky wrinkled as a forehead of an old man
brings the bitter sweetness of blood.
Black wings don't disturb the dreams in the time of silence
in front of Transylvanian dream of eternal pain.

The broken blade of life
falls down to the kingdom of eternal blood.
The life dries up like flowers
put on the victim graves.

In the darkness before dawn
bloody rain is my life.