Don’t leave Mother, to terror’s harvest,
The peaceful life, long consumed by flames,
Don’t get lost; our path of degeneration,
after all, has also been branded by time.
When the standards of deformed kids,
Disgusting the taste of daily bread,
Light up the skies with flares of
innocents’ blood dripping from
incipit grub… When a mother, rather bitch
Makes pickle of her offspring,
And the devil rinses his feet in holy water,
So should we, poor souls pay the fine?..
Last with us Mother – fertile Earth,
As we swear to defend your holiness,
So that you bloom in health, life-giving Lady,
And in your corners we shall thrive…