To the raven flying to shadow the sun,
To the pestilence spreading all over the land,
To the daemons beginning the hunt,
To the war hounds leaving the den,
To the avid god rejoicing in our blood,
To the skies that stand aloof,
To the wolf that howls tearing silence apart,
To the echo mocking at him from afar,
To the vulture hurrying not to miss the feast,
To the distant moon watching the slaughter, pleased...

To the tide rising to wipe out the scars
And the tears already spilt,
To the Reaper preparing his scythe
For the harvest on the battlefield –

Hecatomb!
(Praise the massacre!)

Rule of the Force,
Hate-driven delirious hordes –
He who stands the last
Takes the hollow Earth...

Hecatomb –
A bargain with Death.
Hecatomb –
A blood-signed pact.
Hecatomb!
Who cares a straw,
When your life's at stake
For someone's sake?

When the die is cast,
And hate becomes a must,
When self-identity
Is turning into dust,

When future leaves no past
And no way to flee
For humanity,
That will be sacrificed –

To the vanity having shadowed the sun,
To atrocity devastating the land,
To the gods of war enjoying the hunt...
They will have it all – you will meet the end.