Pt.I every year we celebrate the morning day...

Every year we can change our smike in tears

In this dismal day you can give vent to your hate and pain...

 

Pt.II the minstrel plays the funeral march

The dancer without eyes dances between the graves...

The crows shout the name of the next one that will die...

 

Morning day... morning... day!!!

Every year we celebrate the death... every year we cryfor the dead

In this day of sorrow you can give vent to your hate and pain