My messenger wind in last night
Fans black fire by tune of dull north abyss.
Illusory demon from charcoals of bonfire comes out, his name is sadness.

Who'll touch your shoulder tenderly? Who'll call behind you quietly?

Ringing horn and wood, and crack of branches.
I fill empty fragments of soul in forbidden and evil swampy places.

Snow doesn't thaw on eyes and faces.
Fingers are writhed in dust of white.
Piercingly creaked door is shut.
Demon howls (drawls in a corner), his name is dread.

I'll leave you at cold home, at the dead cradle of branches.
Window is draped by death. Evil is here always.

"Don't close after me, I'll be back...
One hour, year, age."
To the call of tears and hate,
To the call of getting cool blood,
To the call of love and gold rain...

Frozen flood is drunk by star's light.
It's impossible cooled long drear night!
Demon from grey ashes comes out, his name is depression.

Plait my song into pattern of wind,
Fill my soul with dew of blood.
Ringing horn and wood give a birth to groan.
In scene of fates - reflection of mine.

Is washed out, is swept away, my spark has fallen into snow.
But black ancient kamlat has come to life.
The crystal has split and burst for rage.
The sun doesn't shine through the bloody rain.
A chinx has cut blue twilight,
The shimmering circle again...
"Is winged shadow you?"
"I'm back."