Roar of wars was covered by the heavy cloak of dust    Noises of steel reins were broken in echoes    Air sweetened with blood    Pagan rabble    Fallen under the flag of antiquity.    I like to breath in and I devour greedily    Each little drop of the times passed away    Times of blood and of primary love as well.    In the evening falling into dark I speak to faces in the walls    They are much older than we are willing to understand    And also stronger than us, time and the power of oblivion    They are engraved into walls by songs from universe.    I like to listen to the narration of the endless labyrinth of horror    And at the same time I feel the most material and intoxicating power of   times   With which I feel to be bound.