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Bow before the grim moon

The realm's silvery-faced watcher

Arquaint the inward fiery inhuman dismay

The kingdom of cold might

Overwhelming dark eminence

Disallows the impure undignified to enter

This land is a ritual sumptuous robe

An external layer to assimilate by the crowd

Unmitigated aspect hidden for undesirable sight

A gate to be forced by the somber nobility

A hypodermic permanent eclipse

That none with their inert rejoice

Ever felt the fraction of

This land has persisted immense

Thrust of desecrating burdens

As they tried to deprive its very core

By raising their abhorrent lucid shrines

Yet endured the obscure entity

A retribution force

Each meadow will own the gallows

For grotesque brood of God

Silver stream sinks through wooden stained glass

Paints my face a pattern of inconstant ambience

At the mystical bound

The luminosity dares not to stride

At the glorious time

When no human dare to disrupt

I hail the enchanted fullmoon that ascends

Over the eastern Mazovian woods...