A Hymn to Mortality

For aeons the «worms» have been pursuing but one target: imortality
But this phantasm, thanks to thee, fulfilled never ever shall be
Praised thou shalt be
O' precious mortality!
Cleansing the earth
From the weaklings of the wormian race
Through death, thy employer, thou weakest havor among the «worms»
Every single one is reaped by this sharpened scythe
Praised thou shalt be
O' precious mortality!
Cleansing the earth
From the weaklings of the wormian race
I can hear the «worms' «death knell resounding in my mind
I glorify thee for thou dost decimate their arrogant
Kind
Praised thou shalt be
O' precious mortality!
Cleansing the earth
From the weaklings of the wormian race. (x2)