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(Music: Knjaz Varggoth; Lyrics: Knjaz Varggoth)



The thunder of the drums is heard and cattle herds are driving

back. Sunset is driving near, The heat of hoofs - all around

melt away in the shaggy beard of great and wise elder sunset.

The forests and the mountains surrounding the village he covers

by golden cloth - the night is drawing near. Bonfires blaze up

and the flame tongues raise up to blacken sky like hands. The

hearers faces are visible through the flame. The grey-haired

elder opens the secret of his past, through night and fire his

word again find the youth. His face covered with wrinkles like

waterless earth shined with life as in his youth. And his tale

was drifted through the time to distant faraways of those days.

When the steel was like continuation of the hand and the warriors

were not afraid of their enemies power - then moon was shining

brighter and sun warned more times than nowadays. The forest

has been lighted by thousand of bonfires, it have been seen that

celebration has begun, and singing drowned the noise of the wind

but (the) elder continued this tale. When the valor and the honor

was valued oved lie and hypocrisy, when the pride and the eminence

was valued over the slavery and the cowardice. The enemies cities

and villages were on fire! Blood and death, screams and mourns

- Hell came out! The honor and the praise to power. The beat

of hoofs and crunch of steel, the scythe of death flied over

this field, eyes were looking into eyes and heavens were on fire!

The warriors heart melted and tears appeared in the old eyes

- the tears of the real master. His hand is clenched in the first,

the teeth was gritted as that time, the ages of victories are

over. It`s now time to wait. No sooner that the sun get out of

continement and the first rays let the birds know that the day

had come. No sooner that the herds were driving on the pasture

the hair of the old warrior was streaming by the breeze. He`d

been looking at the faraways and didn`t find that the celebration

was over. His thoughts were with those far times. Like a cold

shudder passed through his skin. He rose and returned back to

his house not left by the memories about those distant times.

The honor and praise to power! The forgotten ages of victories.

(Music: Knjaz Varggoth; Lyrics: Knjaz Varggoth)



The thunder of the drums is heard and cattle herds are driving

back. Sunset is driving near, The heat of hoofs - all around

melt away in the shaggy beard of great and wise elder sunset.

The forests and the mountains surrounding the village he covers

by golden cloth - the night is drawing near. Bonfires blaze up

and the flame tongues raise up to blacken sky like hands. The

hearers faces are visible through the flame. The grey-haired

elder opens the secret of his past, through night and fire his

word again find the youth. His face covered with wrinkles like

waterless earth shined with life as in his youth. And his tale

was drifted through the time to distant faraways of those days.

When the steel was like continuation of the hand and the warriors

were not afraid of their enemies power - then moon was shining

brighter and sun warned more times than nowadays. The forest

has been lighted by thousand of bonfires, it have been seen that

celebration has begun, and singing drowned the noise of the wind

but (the) elder continued this tale. When the valor and the honor

was valued oved lie and hypocrisy, when the pride and the eminence

was valued over the slavery and the cowardice. The enemies cities

and villages were on fire! Blood and death, screams and mourns

- Hell came out! The honor and the praise to power. The beat

of hoofs and crunch of steel, the scythe of death flied over

this field, eyes were looking into eyes and heavens were on fire!

The warriors heart melted and tears appeared in the old eyes

- the tears of the real master. His hand is clenched in the first,

the teeth was gritted as that time, the ages of victories are

over. It`s now time to wait. No sooner that the sun get out of

continement and the first rays let the birds know that the day

had come. No sooner that the herds were driving on the pasture

the hair of the old warrior was streaming by the breeze. He`d

been looking at the faraways and didn`t find that the celebration

was over. His thoughts were with those far times. Like a cold

shudder passed through his skin. He rose and returned back to

his house not left by the memories about those distant times.

The honor and praise to power! The forgotten ages of victories.

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