Storm! Scream from the Dark in the depths of hidden abyss,
Silence of the ancient waters whose punishment is eternal sleep.
At the [bad word] of the walls held up the vaults of the temple
Of the tribes whose deadly wrath closed the gates of the aeon.
Ashes of the priests are buried there in dark grottos,
Their call hurls the waves at the coldness of grey rocks.
Oceanic storms bring the prophecies of nightly phantom
Whose bones rest in the filthy jaws of watery silt.
The current goes down the black gorge into infinity,
And, shuddering the ocean with His eternal breath,
It sprinkles with blood the Darkness of black watery surface.
Through the vortices of waves [bad word] with the thunder of the dead.
From the misty haze, scorching with moonlight,
The winds will raise the cry and ocean's foam.
Collapsing the stone walls and drowning in the waters
The Storm from the depths of the Aeon buries them.
With the rage of ancient gods,
Civilizations of Darkness,
Rituals of the forefathers,
For the slaughter of the foe.