We sat, toiled, in the dark cathedral's deep
Into which, slowly, dusk started to seep...
Your soul and mine - facing some riddled fates.
The darkness, chill and void make all things wane
There is only a purple tide which flows
Over the coffin from a lamp that glows
Like the martyr's heart in flames of pain.
A speck of time that hurts one's heart with fire,
The past in the silver coffin's retire
The future threatens us with cold and dark
Only our hearts suffer in silent cry
Only our thoughts in dim depths cast a spark
Only fate makes it plain that we shall die...
English translation: Jakub Szpak