Behold the flowers of a spring so soon,
its harvest leaf in foul brown bloom.
Whirling fog and a cauldron of stew,
a seer's drench haggard witches' brew.

Es werde Nacht...

Trembling choirs from children in their graves mould ring so young.
Old corses' morbid grace.
Oh, I hear them, still don't fear them!

: Und es ward Finsternis!

Here's to you ye unknown dead!
Twinkle at your misthung battlefield or breathe in the moist den's bed.

Dem Totenvolk der Kelch des Sehers:

Uncloak me miracles from a Kingdom Come,
king of the woods lords of the Atlas,
whispering tales long lost and gone.

Den Lebenden der Trank des Hexers!

From bloodstained Stargates to hellish forges and skyclad summits to the eeriest gorges.
But now depart for my road goes yonder, a road that darkens while in light I wander.
But pierced with beams when everything's sombre.

Geht jetzt!