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I still yearn for that land of the ravens’ nests

Where the earth smells of cooled ash

Where the mist is forever gray and the air is poisoned

Where the stream carries the dust of time

And I know that I will return to that gloomy village

As I remember the stony path, the broken tomb beyond the churchyard

In my dreams, in all my dreams I am possessed by mystic vision



The horse of white is raging on the grave

The sign of a wicked soul that hasn't found its rest

I hear the call resounding from the depths:

“Unchain the sleeping witch from fetters of the curse”

There is no sacred cross upon her grave

But the chapel casts a shadow on her lair

And her eyes always look through the humid soil

Evil eyes wholly scorched by the purest hatred

These eyes shine in my sick and ecstatic soul

Enslaved by the spirit of this buried witch

I stalk through the ancient debris

The hooks of her unholy spell

Draw me towards the deep

Draw me towards the chasm

Rise up! Now I give my blood for you

Rise up! Take the life from my pale veins

I will shield your remains from this church’s shadow

She took my blood. I saw the beauty escaping from the fetid grave

The ginger hair, the marble shoulders, the Eye of the Witch on her white palm

The horse of white is raging on the grave

The sign of a wicked soul that hasn't found its rest

I hear the call resounding from the depths:

“Unchain the sleeping witch from fetters of the curse”