The pale moon casts its evil eye Over the man in the forest He calls wolves with the soundless bagpipe Utters the magic words of summoning And when the snowstorm starts its icy dance Wolves come - red burns their eyes Hungerful howlings fills the night sky
In the depth of the forest There live people far from the others They live by the elders' custom and worship pagan gods Wolves guard them against the persecution of Christians As they deny the dogma of Christ
People from the neighbouring villages Call this place - the forest of werewolves ( they tell: ) Those who pass by the marsh of wolve Never return
Howling The snowstorm roars Red blood paints the snow Wolves gnaw the bones of man Who dared to enter the realm of werewolves