Ked sa dviha sedy popol
Rozorvana zem zacne sa triast
Rozprestrie kridla posledny orol
Posledny strom sa snazi vrast.
Mohutnym vykrikom praska cierna skala
Davna moc vystupi na povrch.
Pod tazkymi okovami zavadne blaho
Nekonecny vykrik putuje vrchmi
Nejasny obraz prastareho mytu
Priepast vekov zlobou prekvita.
Mohutnym vykrikom praska cierna skala
Davna moc vystupi na povrch.
Kolo vekov lame pyche kosti
Konci sa doba bez boja
Ohnom, krvou dalsi vek krsti
Az nasa odplata rany zahoji.
Bol a bude tento kolobeh
Nech v nas ostane tato spomienka
Nech mytus sa stane pravdou
Nech mytus sa stane skutkom.
[Translation: The Circulation Of Ages]
When the grey ashes rises
The ripped earth begins to tremble
The last eagle spreads his wins
The last three tryies to grow.
With a mighty roar cracks the black rock
The ancient power rises on the surface.
Under heavy shackles fades joy
The endless scream travels trough the mountains
The blury picture of an ancient myth
The abyss of times blooms with evil.
With a mighty roar cracks the black rock
The ancient power rises on the surface.
The wheel of times breaks pride's bones
The age without war ends
With fire and blood baptizes
The next age when our revenge will heal the wounds.
Was and will be this circulation
Let this memory remain from you
Let the myth stay true
Let the myth become real.
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