| Calmness of stable stones
|
| Tight veins ain’t sore no more
|
| Brilliant open skies
|
| Smoke-screen has melted alright
|
| An ancient castle, smooth of a pond
|
| Hopes of peoples — the sleeping sword
|
| While the fields are visited by winds
|
| Playing off the trees the leaf -fall whirls
|
| Getting back to youthfulness outta beasty circle
|
| Where your back is slashed and sabred
|
| Where baseness lashes like a river
|
| Step into the gateway into the oldest crumbling house
|
| King’s ebony blade
|
| The power in the lines of steel
|
| It bears forever everlasting peoples' freedom
|
| All power of thunder, of lightning
|
| All elements subdued
|
| The riot of violence of blows of persistent alloy
|
| Ebony King’s Steel
|
| Disaster! |
| Awake, get sober, withstand meanness and treachery
|
| The deep wound is trickling thick blood
|
| The steed be flying
|
| A broken flag
|
| Herald cantos
|
| Echoes gnash
|
| Memory is back through the wallstack
|
| Gloved my arm is searching for the haft
|
| Just again to win
|
| Folks are ready, notice every sign
|
| No return the blade 's forever sunk |