| Tik þodþiai, sparnuoti, lapais pabyra á vëjà, |
| Tik þemë kraujà sugers, þemë iðdþiuti spëjo, |
| It savo rankomis, visa kas gyva kvieèia, |
| Keliais á juodàjà dirvà, pirðtai þarijas lieèia… |
| Atvërë þaizdà, sruva kraujas, |
| Viskà degina aplinkui ir iðvalo ugnis… |
| Kas iðpaþysta savo rankomis sukûrtà, |
| Protu pavergtà apakins ðirdis… |
| Ar tai malda, ar tai kelionë |
| Iðkurios jau niekas niekada nebegryð? |
| Ar dovanosi savo baimæ, nusilenksi prieð |
| Gyvybæ, jei kas jos papraðys? |
| Tiesiai á dangø, krinta iðrankø, |
| Tik nespëja akis suþiûrët… |
| Kyla it liepsnos, uþkeikimai ir burtai, |
| Tylomis tolimos praeities… |
| Aidi nuaidi, pavirsta á ðaltá, |
| Sustoja vanduo á ledà… |
| Tiesiai á dangø, nuo barzdos, |
| Paskutiniai midaus laðai… |
| Atvërë þaizdà, sruva kraujas, |
| Viskà degina aplinkui ir iðvalo ugnis… |
| Kas iðpaþysta savo rankomis sukûrtà, |
| Protu pavergtà apakins ðirdis… |
| Ar tai malda, ar tai kelionë |
| Iðkurios jau niekas niekada nebegryð? |
| Ar dovanosi savo baimæ, nusilenksi prieð |
| Gyvybæ, jei kas jos papraðys? |
| Tik toliai vingiuoti, suteka upem i prada, |
| Tik menuo veliai numirs, menuo ramybe rado, |
| Is tyro sulinio, sudrumstos akys sviecia, |
| Rankos lyg Jievaro sakos, visa kas gyva kviecia… |
| Rites |
| Winged words turn to leaves and scatter to the wind |
| The soil will soak in blood and harden |
| As if with their own hands they calls out to all that live |
| Kneeling on the black soil, fingers claw in hot coals… |
| The wound is gaping, blood flows freely |
| The fire devours and cleanses us all |
| He who confesses to his own creation, |
| His heart will blind the slaves of the mind |
| Is this a prayer or is it a journey |
| From which no man will ever return? |
| Will you vanquish your fear? |
| Will you redeem your life when you hear the call? |
| Slip out of hands, and fall up to the skies — |
| Unfathomable to human eye… |
| Rise up in flames from enchantments and spells, |
| Silently out from the past… |
| Whispers and sounds, turn into frost |
| All water halts — and turns to ice |
| Up to heaven… falls the last drop of mead |
| Dripping from my beard… |
| The wound is gaping, blood flows freely |
| The fire devours and cleanses us all |
| He who confesses to his own creation, |
| His heart will blind the slaves of the mind |
| Is this a prayer or is it a journey |
| From which no man will ever return? |
| Will you vanquish your fear? |
| Will you redeem your life when you hear the call? |
| Rivers meander into the distance — back to their source |
| The moon is dying once again for she has found peace |
| Whilst darkened eyes shine from purest we |