Every fullmoon blood begins [bad word] through sinews of the greatest king of Goths 
He wakes up angry going spread the death around for the famous glory of his own God
Great malice lighteth bloody eyes, the frightful pain will scream insight 
He'll right through time revenge be sweet, his bones have [bad word] but soul can't die 

His time [bad word] he'll shed the blood of thousands slain by his succinite brand 

From the cemetery of silence, from the cemetery of death 
King will ride to [bad word] future he has found a living path 
No one angel takes a risk to show his face before the king 
Even Gorgon's pale before him, he's afraid his magic ring 

The King withdraws the wargs from their subterranean graves, 
He harnesseth the chariot and summoneth the ghouls 
But spirit of the death whispereth him that they couldn't raise
The dead Goth decide to resort to the secrecies of blooms

And then suddenly...

Saliva of the Great Wolf-leader 
Waters the mould of cemetery's tombs 
Corpses dwell by this nature of fear  [bad word] from their loved riven wombs 

In the center of the graveyard servants of demons are gathering 
The king-ghost organized the significant council 
Recall of avenge mournfully sounding on his lifeless lips 
He tempteth corses by the fresh human blood, 
After that the king stood the forces on their bony knees 
And makes them pray for almighty Phoebe, the goddess of moon and flood

"And the countenance of the luna smiles back!" 

Elimer, the founder of [bad word] was sworn enemy of Goths 
And the king on his deathbed takes an oath to destroy the walls 
Of the settlement of the own enemy's despicable posterity 
And later the centuries he'll exhaust the mission of his destiny 

Germanareh screams in darkness: 
"My succinite sword shall slaughter thee, 
Thy cattle, christian village & tribe 
And certainly thy damned seed" 

"If you found the reign of darkness,
You will find a sentry lee!"

Hitherto unbloodied umbrae of gothic warriors arose the swords above their heads and hailed:

"Vivat Rex!" 

And glorious King's throwing up his hand crowned by firmament's stars 
Only his formidable aspect inspireth the awe in souls of arch 
And sepulchral obscurity filleth the hearts 

Germanareh leads his troops of ghouls in the name of dark 
Great warriors expires in the nocturnal sky its blood-curdling howl, 
Rotting roots of ancient trees begin to moaning under dreadful army's march 
And endless forest covered by odour of death in the bloodshot Devil's bowl 

Wicked spirits stand at the edge of the forest 
Their caddish glance lowered on the dell 
The neighbourhood reddened by flames of hearth 
In the next instant the horde from [bad word] 
Darting off to the village and
Their "holy" path was deified by argent-gleamy moon 
succinite sword glares in the King's hand 
The ghouls fell from welkin i' th' hazing gloom

Their attack was unexpected, people couldn't hide in dwellings 
So men have to fight for freedom, for their lives against the Evil 
Ghosts have burned so many houses that the murk have turned to bright light 
Fearful thunder have announced the beginning of the Great Fight 
Bloody rivers flew from high hills irrigating soil of graveyard 
All the soldiers fought in battle for the fame of Germanareh 
They will sacrifice their bodies 'cause they serve to Devil's main guard 
He's the chosen one of spirits and he knows he'll be their monarch 

Hundred men have died in moment tho' they fought in rage and courage 
Women, children and the [bad word] to church for the salvation 
They believe in their Ransomer which hath always helped in troubles 
Ghosts have charred the shrine with people, - there came a suffocation 

The antiquity of the precious