Sanah - Na grobie rycerz

On a grave a knight from olden days
Stands with a head held high;
On his head, a helm, in his hand a shield,
and chest closed in armour.

A certain prophecy he once had,
From his days, back from his life,
That when death will end it's harvest,
A golden horn shall sound.

And so he listens, day and night,
Rising his forehead of stone,
And death walks along his side,
And reaps and reaps... reaps...

And a century and two, waits the knight,
Standing amongst death's harvest,
And so he listens, day and night,
Should the horn sound.

And graveyard's rust ate the sword,
And rains devoured the helm,
And wind and snow batters the shield,
Yet the knight waits still...

And so he listens, day and night,
Rising his forehead of stone,
And death walks along his side,
And reaps and reaps... reaps...

And so he listens, day and night,
Rising his forehead of stone,
And death walks along his side,
And reaps and reaps... reaps...

And sun burned out his sight,
And moss has grown from the armour,
And crushed chest pours out ash,
Yet the knight stands still...

And sun burned out his sight,
And moss has grown from the armour,
And crushed chest pours out ash,
Yet the knight stands still...

And sun burned out his sight,
And moss has grown from the armour,
And crushed chest pours out ash,
Yet the knight stands still...

And sun burned out his sight,
And moss has grown from the armour,
And crushed chest pours out ash,
Yet the knight stands still...

Stands still...