Dies irae, dies illa, Solvet saeclum in favilla. Quantus tremor est futurus, Quando judex est venturus, Confutatis maledictis, Flammis acribus addictis, Remedisti crusem passus, Tantus labor non sit cassus. With ash and blood the way was paved, which led us to the light Through fear, abasement, lies and pain in chains we wear on heart. Whip, steel and fire we’ve chosen once, in place of mind that gone, The church became the tyrant for us, on fear its stone throne. In pain and force of fire we trust, Since rise of ancient ages, Entrusting them the children of ours, Who don’t want to be slaves, (Blind and silent slaves). Now I am walking to the fire, lest come to be in hell Tread on my brothers’ mute remains, which hated lies as well, Under the thunder of the drums, under the bawl of crowd, And stone-cold look of bored monks, who wished to be my court. The bloody sweat of fear before the thing that’ll happen soon. Just catching for the look of those, I’m not a beast for whom. And found none I plainly see, there is not human face The fire is only place for me, the death is only grace. Voca me cum benectis. Oro supplex et acclinis, Cor contritum quasi cinis, Gere curam mei finis. Remedisti crusem passus, Tantus labor non sit cassus. Juste judex ultionis, Donum fac remissiones. I’ll be just ash before the nigtht And someone’ll step on me Free of the sanity and fear, Which burned much stronger than fire.