he inner doors, now are Invoked.
Thousands come to the call.
The canticles hidden by the moon.
The brilliance of Lhot's figure is reflected
in the vast and golden sacrifice altar.
The oil lamps illuminate the antechamber,
the prayers resound among the tombs of the dead kings.
Sublimated preacher purifies us before the battle.
Ia Khalá! issi-nui Ittataer-tilha
nak thal-ha thushal shilay...
Thu sehys naght-thalt hag
anneit hualac hiier
thag thenk noig assureil
Thu naid saure dit iegt-assureil!
The oil lamps illuminate the antechamber,
the prayers resound amog the tombs of the dead kings.
The Sublimated preacher purifies us before the battle.
He shakes our souls with his sermon.
No piety, no truce only to annihilate the enemies. |
