Od kdaj, sinovi resnice, ste bratje noc'i?
Kaj roke vas'e s krvjo rdec'i?
Eksplozija v noc'i je roz'a gorja,
opravic'iti z njo se nic'esar ne da
Razbiti mogoc'e oltarja ni,
oltarja laz'i, ki oblike mnoz'i
Brezma dez'na slika, brezbolne luc'i,
edina zavetja srhljivih noc'i
Otroci duha smo in bratje moc'i,
katere obljuka se ne izvrs'i
Smo c'rni duhovi od tega sveta,
opevarno noro podobo gorja
Razlaga je bic' in ti krvavis':
Po stotic' razbijte zrcalo sveta, -
vas' trud je zaman Presegli smo noc':
nas' dolg je poplac'an
in nas'a je luc'
(Since when, sons of truth, are you the brothers of night?
What colors your hands with the redness of blood?
The explosion in the night is the flower of woe,
nothing can be justified by it
The altar cannot be destroyed,
the altar of lies, that multiplies shapes
The spotless picture, the painless light,
the only harbors of the terrible night
We are the children of the spirit and the brothers of strength,
whose promises are not fulfilled
We are the black ghosts of this world,
we sing the mad image of woe
The explanation is the whip and you bleed
Break the mirror of the world for the hundredth time, -
all your efforts are in vain We have overcome the night:
our debt has been paid
and the light is ours)