I hear the first tolls of the Bell
Far away striking lenghty and grave
It's the omen of the blackness that is coming

The gloomy strokes of the sentence
Freeze the heart of the enemies
That ever feared the prelude's Night


The reopening of the Black Age
When happened the devastation

Brought by us, sons of the Throne of Ice
Winter Bestial Horde swarms into rows
Arms raised in a diabolic act of war


Sweeping over this Land
The Cold Mist of Funeral Empire


And the Lord of the Ages called us to War
Brothers, creeping and carrying all to Death

Following the Leader, the Master of no Light
And the Hammer, the lawful weapon
Of the legitimate sons!


Cold steel forged in fire, blades sharpened by slaves
The blood of the enemies will sprinkle on this Land...


Warriors of the last Millennium
Revival from old ruined crypts

Black marks of eternal memory
Bringing forth from ancient times:
Hate and weapons of Battle

Fortify us in our will to conquer

Eternally eclipsed by the Dark clouds of Disgrace

Opening the Twilight that faints the sun in Hate
Intense evil turns into gray the South Hemisphere
And the top of the Conquest of the Obscure can see


Sweeping over this Land
The Cold Mist of Funeral Empire