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I know I hung on a windy trunk

All nine nights, wounded by thorns

On the trunk being grown out of roots

Of tree unknown to me

I know I looked down, learned runes

Screaming I collapsed into its shadows

I learned nine mighty spells

Read out of ancient stones

Fed on hate, drunk with blood of dead

I started being produced

And growing up with power

One word for the second found the third for me

One deed for the second was searching

For the third for me

I spread terror and pain, tortures and death

In this strange place of the end my time had come

Tired with ruling the evil I'm freezing

Like a bird braided between branches

[lead: Skotniczny]