| Above the crest a whirlwind blows again with fury
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| The crag monument appears in its dark magnificence
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| Clouds ablaze trying to bridle the space, a single being amidst
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| I’ve gone hunting anew to seize the highland spirit
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| Across the spheres where the streams' ribbons attempt to break the resistance
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| Unholy forests ascend vanishing before they reach the clouds
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| A genuine realm of dusk shall be my realm this night
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| When I’m breathing the frozen wind that descended throughout the Tatra pass
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| Where no weak endures and the immensity is appalling, I’ll be conquering…
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| The filth always flows down, in a distant valleys it settles
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| Hateful for they exhibit what’s pure for trades
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| As I clamber isolation rises, sacred dearest solitude is thy end
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| Though the scum still pester… Nighttime journey
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| Achieves monumental deeds in a stone freezing interior
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| As the wolves come out hunting towards the sullen landscape
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| The mild hide before deceptive moonlight
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| The old sprits revive, the past returns, the purity of a winter kingdom
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| That is still left as a primeaval splendour of the fatherland
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| On a mountainside I observe clouds on a nightsky torn by
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| Carpathian winder wind. |
| With wolves I’ll share my throne… |