The Advent of the Grim Hour

Lost in the heart of cold
 Powerless on the ocean of grief
 I realize once more the advent of grim hour
 I still sense death, the black death
 Your rigid name is desolation
 Your embrace is constant pain
 Was I wrapped up
 Under barren rocks in the desert?
 Was I banished
 To the womb of the underworld?
 Nobody saw, Nobody heard
 Nobody wished to see
 Nobody wished to hear
 In memory of time
 In memory of joy
 Before my eyes there is again an armoury
 At my foot there are books
 With mumuring clear water
 Stubbornly I wander ahead
 Complaining of thirst and wounds from battles
 As if I didn't want to see
 As if I didn't want to hear
 Time has come to cover one's sword in blood
 Time has come to sound the battle cry
 Earthly vanity surrounds me
 Forsooth, a chasing for winds
 There is nothing new under the sun
 No green sprouts in the desert of life
 Am I still a slave of emptiness?
 Did I lose the fight that once I won?
 Naked and disguisting I regard the dark reflection
 Do I myself create my wondering?
 Will I lie dormant
 When the fight for existence draws near?
 My wish is to see
 My wish is to hear!
 Time has come to cover one's sword in blood
 Time has come to sound the battle cry!
 Scorned, whipped. left, killed.
 In truth I see the master of the domination
 For me sacrificed
 For you sacrificed
 In memory of time
 In memory of eternity
 The bitter curse of grief goes to its final rest
 The black mantle of death has fallen away and dissolved
 Time has come to cover one's sword in blood
 Time has come to sound the battle cry!