With stars aligned a storm draws nigh,
A hundred hands, a hundred swords;
Amd fifty heads - fifty battle-yells,
The gods gave the dread command...
Dare not invoke the wrath of the hekatonheires!
Mere mortal quake before the kin of cyclopes!
Storm-brothers fighting back to back,
Thoso who crafted lightning shafts
And taught the thunders to attack,
Their roar echoes from abysses dark...
Dare not invoke the wrath of the hekatonkheires!
Mere mortal quake before the kin of cyclopes!
Masters of the skies above,
Rulers of the waves that rise -
Kings of the brooding heavens
Their name alone forebodes cataclysm!