In the dusk he talked to the mystic face of the moon
Promising that he will cover it with blood
"See for what I fought so long,
O' coldest moon, now to you I belong"
He slept seven nights in the snow and the deepest breeze
Until his flesh begins to freeze
He couldn't hold his breath
Caught by the nocturnal death
See this unholy throne of blood
This is the last omen of the moon
Unclenching his cold fists
Entering in the blackest mist
Worshiping the funeral winter
Wiping his last tears
"Je garde dans mon Coeur la douceur glaciale du néant,
Ô triste lune, te souviens tu comme je pleurais en te regardant?"