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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 its face.

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