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...