তোর প্রাণের রস তো শুকিয়ে গেল ওরে
tor praaner rosh
You seem to be drained of all life-force
Fill then your goblet with the essence of death
Extracted from the fire of the funeral pyre
It is the balm for all scorching pain
It colours every void with a raucous laughter
Your sun hides behind dense clouds
Your day is spent in meaningless tasks
Then let it come, the dark night
The ultimate friend to the craze of obliteration
Let it cloud your weary eyes with a fog
That befuddles your sense of direction
tor praaner rosh
You seem to be drained of all life-force
Fill then your goblet with the essence of death
Extracted from the fire of the funeral pyre
It is the balm for all scorching pain
It colours every void with a raucous laughter
Your sun hides behind dense clouds
Your day is spent in meaningless tasks
Then let it come, the dark night
The ultimate friend to the craze of obliteration
Let it cloud your weary eyes with a fog
That befuddles your sense of direction
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