Over the Transilvanian's mountains

The Sabbath's haunting down,

The black of mystery

The sculptured of woods...

From the valley's deepness

Hear it screaming

And griming the fury of

Thee which lightness's opposed.

And the fogs whiteness

'S crawling under the grasp,

And from the forests stone

Dark shadows crawl upon it.

The darkness sword

Cuts the darkness filed way

The occult rage

Fronts ïts face.