Winds tear the remains of towns and cities
Waters are poisoned and woods are charry
All the country seems deserted and darkened
Human laughter and bird-call
Can't be heard any more
The black death of the middle ages
The nuclear winter of the modern civilization
It makes no difference to the lust of death
The smile of the skull always shines in the world
In any time
Among any kind of human beings
The death
Has occasion to be glad
By fire or steel, by disease or hunger
The death replenishes its riches
In silence or in the clank of weapon
The death enlarges its kingdom
The splash of the bloody rivers and the stench of decay
The champ of worms and the howl of hunters for carrion
They announce that somewhere the death gives a ball
But only the few will be glad to be a guest there
People can glorify their mind or their creator
But they all serve as stair-steps to the death's glory
They can devise holidays and celebrations for themselves
But only death will joy
When all the gladness ends
Only death will joy
When all the gladness ends
Dance macabre
By fire or steel
By disease or hunger
The death
Replenishes its riches
In silence
Or in the clank of weapon
The death
Enlarges its kingdom
Dance macabre
