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Svartidauði
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Sterile Seeds
The age of divine splendor has come to an end.
A world, a world of beauty has disintegrated before our eyes.
Here is no peace, here is madness and much of sin.
Sterile seeds in a cold, rotting soil.
This is the grave in which we lay the last of your hollowed idols.
For here stand nothing erect, but the gallows and crumbling monuments.
The Earth is covered in ash and our lungs have filled with worms.
The dead eyes close as the disgusting light flickers at the withering horizon.
Mutilated flesh and dripping vomit.
The shepherds of sickness are caught in a black torrent of the blossoming death.
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