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ked sa dviha sedy popol

rozorvana zem zacne sa triast

rozprestrie kridla posledny orol

posledny strom sa snazi vrast

mohutnym vykrikom praska cierna skala

davna moc vystupi na povrch

pod tazkymi okovami zavadne blaho

nekonecny vykrik putuje vrchmi

nejasny obraz prastareho mytu

priepast vekov zlobou prekvita

mohutnym vykrikom praska cierna skala

davna moc vystupi na povrch

kolo vekov lame pyche kosti

konci sa doba bez boja

ohnom, krvou dalsi vek krsti

az nasa odplata rany zahoji

bol a bude tento kolobeh

nech v nas ostane tato spomienka

nech mytus sa stane pravdou

nech mytus sa stane skutkom

Translation: The Circulation of Ages

when the grey ashes rises

the ripped earth begins to tremble

the last eagle spreads his wins

the last three tryies to grow

with a mighty roar cracks the black rock

the ancient power rises on the surface

under heavy shackles fades joy

the endless scream travels trough the mountains

the blury picture of an ancient myth

the abyss of times blooms with evil

with a mighty roar cracks the black rock

the ancient power rises on the surface

the wheel of times breaks pride's bones

the age without war ends

with fire and blood baptizes

the next age when our revenge will heal the wounds

was and will be this circulation

let this memory remain from you

let the myth stay true

let the myth become real