Let the storm arrive, whirlwinds of the darkest times Once there was a crow flying over me Whispers, from the envoy, told it Warned the trails of our fame
We're marching and riding on the edge of each Path for a guilty fate Fine blades of the brethren, comrades Find your way through enemies
Four winds from the escape of vultures Howled to me and blew my eyes Folks, now, have united at the Altar A guild is formed
We're walking and flying on the edge of each Path for a glorious fate Fine blades of the brethren, comrades Find your way through enemies
I've felt my heart so wretch yet sick But now, I am accomplished