Roar of wars was covered by the heavy cloak of dust 

Noises of steel reins were broken in echoes 

Air sweetened with blood 

Pagan rabble 

Fallen under the flag of antiquity. 

I like to breath in and I devour greedily 

Each little drop of the times passed away 

Times of blood and of primary love as well. 

In the evening falling into dark I speak to faces in the walls 

They are much older than we are willing to understand 

And also stronger than us, time and the power of oblivion 

They are engraved into walls by songs from universe. 

I like to listen to the narration of the endless labyrinth of horror 

And at the same time I feel the most material and intoxicating power of

times

With which I feel to be bound.