My eyes are watering, I can't see further.
I can only touch and feel the anxiety in my heart,
which was burnt.
What is still living in this heart ?

What has resisted its heat and yearn,
its power and anger ? What is it ?

Only hope was left for me.
My tears are flowing in the cold days -
days of cursing of the winter Kings.

My tears - this storm of black heart.
Tears - the remains of my blood.
Tears - the last piece of my life,
which still remains to me.

I'm calling: "Come back my desire,
come back and revive my faith!"

I'm calling for a help -
in vain - because all virgin souls
were burnt and I'm sieged by the cold.

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