I hear a voice speaking of darkness, in me.
It ties me to all of those from which I tried to break free.
It shows me all I am and all I ever was.
I long to see the dawn, but I'll be gone at dusk.

I hear a voice, speaking of freedom in me.
My bland persistence is getting claimed by the sea.
The wind carries all there is, and all there ever was.
I close my eyes as everything, crumbles down to dust.

Άγνωστο στον κόσμο,
ένα τριαντάφυλλο αγναντεύει τα άστρα.
Η αντανάκλαση τους στα
φύλλα του έχει πλέον θολώσει,
Την υπόσχεση του αγοριου  
δεν τη θυμάται πια.
Σκούριασαν τα αγκάθια του,
οι ρίζες του μυήθηκαν στον πάγο και στη στάχτη.
Σε ένα κάστο χτισμένο απο άμμο
την συνείδηση του έχει θάψει.

Hidden in the mist of solitude,
lie memories of broken arms and lilies.
Temptation has given birth to hate,
and night lent man her veil.
Under this lunar veil, man is now asleep.
And through the lands of the forgotten,
the prettiest lullaby is heard.
It was molded in a fire,
deep inside the earth.
The lullaby now speaks tales
of darkness, light and dirt.
The wretched fear it's omen
and the wise fear it's might.
Blessed is he who knows no greed,
for he shall be bestowed the crown of life.