Od kdaj, sinovi resnice, ste bratje noci
Kaj roke vase s krvjo rdeci?
Eksplozija v noci je roza gorja,
Opraviciti z njo se nicesar ne da.
Razbiti mogoce oltarja ni,
Oltarja lazi, ki oblike mnozi.
Brezmadezna slika, brezbolne luci,
edina zavetja srhljivih noci.
Otroci duha smo in bratje moci,
katere obljuba se ne izvrsi.
Smo crni duhovi od tega sveta,
opevamo noro podobo gorja.
Razlaga je bic, in ti krvavis :
Po stotic razbijte zrcalo sveta
vas trud je zaman. Presegli smo noc :
nas dolg je poplacan
in nasa je luc.
The explosion in the night is the flower of woe,
nothing can be jusified by it.
The altar cannot be destroyed,
the altar of lies, that multiplies shapes.
The spotless picture, the painless lights,
the only harbours of the terrible night.
We are the children of the spirit and the brothers of strength,
whose promises are not fulfilled.
We are the black ghosts of this world,
we sing the mad image of woe.
The explanation is the whip and you bleed :
Break the mirror of the world for the hundredth time,
all your efforts are in vain. We have overcome the night :
our debt has been paid
and the light is ours.
