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(preludium)

Harness the black steed... Aye, my liege

May the night and fog be my veil

As I carry the word to the forest citadel

That the lord on exile may arise

(legend part 1)

The fullmon stained crimson over the realm

Traces of terror, impaled greet from villages, hills

Shade of the grey castle, like shroud of fear, the folk benumbed

Tales hover of morbid godless rites, heretic acts

The tyrant holds the kingdom

With iron embrace

Still holds sword and shield

Against outlandish thread

(legend part 2)

The folk's grief becomes wrath, confederacy grows

Unawared the grim lord made the realm an unbroken stronghold

The greedy lords from the south dare not cross the bounds

They crave to behold the tyrant fall

And stir up the flame of insurgence

For the blind crowd own destruction

A requiem for northern Wallachia

(interludium)

The threads of betrayal extend

Messengers tramp in the woods

Town alleys, the evening whispers

The lord on exile awaits

(legend part 3)

At last the signals resounded

Messages delivered, blaze aroused

Many fell to banish the fierce lord

And pyres of retribution gleam

Among choirs of rejoice

And content gaze from the south

Among thunder of forges and kettle drums

Heralding the war...

(postludium)

Forgotten are the wounds set by foreign swords

When own stakes and gallows grow

The price of throwing chains may be the shield's decay

One day the tyrant summoned will return in glory...