Triglaw black-thrash / Šaštín-Stráže

Beneath the shadows of peaks,
Frozen winds whisper tales of doom,
A path where darkness speaks,
An ancient curse in the mountains,

As the curse ascends towards the night,
In the land of frost, where death shines,
Rivers of ice, flowing deep and cold,
Here it comes, curse of the old

Silent whispers of distress
You will die, in the howling winds

Silent whispers of agony
You will die, in the howling winds

The skeletal trees, covered in blood
Where spirits are hiding
Whispering in your ear
Cursed lies

Silent whispers of distress
You will die, in the howling winds

Silent whispers of agony
You will die, in the howling winds