Gleaming Transylvania! So clear from this eternal homeland. Anyway here everything is passing Which derive from you and God. In the roar of the wind you can hear The hymn of the living dead and The fog wanderer furies screams. Give now power to the night's creatures And your battle blessing for your Faithful followers that our age to steep In the orthodox blood. In my veins blazing the power of hate ness. In my soul are whirling the ghosts of my forefathers. The fog is appeared from my forefathers' blood. They had been deprived of their belief But they went to death rather than praise the Might of the God. You have no future in the empire of fog. Here has no power the force of the God.