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Gloom angels fly to my sad window

And transform myself in the music of my

Previous

Existence

Whirlwind of weeping spirits

Bring your punish blind moan

To the cleansing soul of this forest

That lives bleeding for their past of others

Lives

Whit my he art from the dark

I’ll reveal the secret of endless souls

Suffering in vain

This is our prophecy, destiny of foretold past

Communion of glorified

Blood flow out my mask

It join my tears and they are harvested by

Filth worms on my felt

Sentenced by their own determination

Sorrow as strong as

The strength of their deceived thoughts

Violence against themselves

Condemner to eternal exile in seventh hell

Where cursed fiends injure

The essence of wicked woods

Despolited of their suicidal  corpse

Not even in eterny’s end will they regain

Their bodies that ended – life

Only to fall in the foss (of seventh hell)

Almas podridas maestros de la ilusión divina

Almas podridas maestros de la ilusión suicida

Souls dance under the torment of

The black whirlwind of weeping spirits

Souls bleed themselves hoax converted

In painful lugubrious vegetation