I lay dawn on the whispering field
My body consumed by elements
awaken by a terrible ravens call of death
A freezing chant of darkness, sorrow and hate.
I remember it
here in the field where thousand of storms
of impure blood has falled
As mature crop mensi lives have been cutted
There was a time when the nightwingds leaded my sword
though the armies of my enemies
In the time when funeral winds arised on the earth
and wars and fights were common everywhere
I grew here in power of misanthropic spirit
Enforced by my cruel existence
and by the aims of the ones I killed
Until when I was killed too
And here I lay perished and forgotten

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