Death reap the souls, tears apart the joints, Breaking the bones, exudes with cheep of rats. Death turns to madness, human’s loss their mind And burn their dwellings, all hopes to stop the plague die...
The opened wide chops of countless common graves Are ready to be the abode of scattered bodies As the all-devouring flame of Black Fever Exhausts the juices of life, turning all to endless void...
Marauders are march into the fire And plunder everything what they can take away with them Corpses, half dead, decomposed cattle, Swarm of insects, monks, who copulate in the mud - the fruit of mental decline
Some of the death-marked formerly were healthy. They were able to go outside but there they met with death Humans walk, crawl and drop dead All the deceased can't be received by the graveyards Their bodies are burnt away or simply abandoned on the roads
Rivers are infested with the dead fish Dead water cannot be warmed by the sun It will never be Never be life-giving Hail, snow and ashes that filled the air Enshroud the cities and states with the mist of fever
Yersinia Pesis never dies, It lies dormant for ages and ages, it waits There will be a day when Plague will awake the rats And send them to perish in the streets of joyful towns...