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In cold nights

Under the fog of quiet swamps

Spirits waiting to invoke its powers

For one more battle

Eyes in tears conduct themselves

To the faraway horizon

Where you can still hear the angry sounds of swords

Cutting off christians heads

Victorious fights between the mountains

BLACK HORSES MARCHING TO THE TRIUMPH

TREMBLING THE GROUND

Inside the chest of the great warriors

Their hearts still bleed

In painful bitterness

Sorrows of a painful past

Described in their history

Memories of desentment times

Grown by the hate throught the centuries

Magic secrets and profane mysteries

And revealed against christ

Throught generations bringing back sons and evil fathers

In only one conquest

The mystic essence that comes from the mountains

Personalized in the warriors of the night

That cross the cold fog of the nightfall

With theirs swords searching the enemy the enemy heart