The pale moon casts its evil eye

Over the man in the forest

He calls wolves with the soundless bagpipe

Utters the magic words of summoning

And when the snowstorm starts its icy dance

Wolves come - red burns their eyes

Hugeful howlings fill the night sky



In the depth of the forest

There live people far from the others

They live by the elders' custom and worship pagan gods

Wolves guard them against the persecution of christians

As they deny the dogma of christ



People from the neighbourning villages

Call this place - the forest of werewolves

(they tell:)

Those who pass the marsh of wolve never return



Howling

The snowstorm roars

Red blood paints the snow

Wolves gnaw the bones of man

Who dared to enter the realm of werewolves