Rotting Christ - Orders From the Dead

|The world is going up in flames|x4

But these flames are not new to our dead.
Our dead did cry their final prayer in those flames.
Our dead did sing their last lullaby in those flames.
Our dead prayed to our infidelite God in those flames.
Our dead whispered a last goodbye,
To their mother in those flames.

Της είπα:
“Mάνα μη σκιάζεσαι θα γυρίσουμε.
Eχε γεια μάνα!”

The world is going up in flames,
Our world clawed their children close,
In the world is going up in flames.

Tα παιδιά μου καλέ!
Mην είδατε τα παιδιά μου?
Για όνομα του Θεού!
Αχ, μου τον πήρανε,
Τι να θέλω τη ζωή?
Τα παιδιά μου, τα παιδιά μου!
Βάζει μια τρεχάλα για τη θάλασσα,
Πέφτει και πνίγεται…

Our dead watched their daughters,
Butchered, raped and beaten,
In the still-burning of those flames.

Our dead watched an axe remove their,
Mother’s skull and crown a wooden spit,
In the continuous whispering of those flames.

Our dead watched while Chrysostomos,
Eyes and tongue were pulled out,
Teeth and fingers broken, one by one,
In the laughing and the cheering of those flames.

Αρπάξανε από την τετράδα μας,
Τους σκίσανε την κοιλιά με μια μαχαιριά,
Τον βάλανε και βάδιζε κρατώντας τα’άντερά του στα χέρια.

Our dead watched their sisters drenched with gasoline,
And scream with melting skin.
The world is going up in flames,
The world witch is going up in flames.

Για όνομα του Χριστού μη μας αφήσετε!
Eχουμε μωρά μαζί μας!
Eχουμε γερόντους, έχουμε κορίτσια,
Είστε υπεύθυνοι!
Ναύαρχε, ναύαρχε! Φωτιά! Φωτιά!

Our dead were dragged in marches through of desert sun,
For weeks until the sun burned out their lungs,
And when the blaze turn inside out their mouths,
And ripped apart their lips, we heard the final prayer:
Lord God, have mercy, please, upon our souls!

Μας προδώσανε, μας ξεπουλήσανε
Πανάθεμα τους!
Ναύαρχε… τι κάνεις;
Ναύαρχε, σώστε μας! Φωτιά! Φωτιά!

They saw the world is going up in flames,
Buried, not yet dead, inside the pits engraved.
Giaouri, infideli:
Our god has chosen you to die.

Γονατίστε, κατω! …και γονατίζανε.
Ξεγυμνώσου! …και ξεγυμνώνεται.
Άνοιξε τα σκέλια σου! …και τα ανοίγει.
Χόρεψε! …και χορεύει.
Φτύσε την τιμή σου και την πατρίδα σου! …και φτύνουν.
Απαρνήσου την πίστη σου! …και την απαρνιέται.
Kαι την απαρνιέται…

And now the unblessed dead have ordered us to say:
This is my grave, my holy bed, you cannot take it,
You cannot erase my name,
You cannot erase our dead,
You cannot erase the dead.
Because we have been ordered now,
To list their names, their numbers,
To give their date of birth,
Their earthly city, their father’s name,
The sweetness of their mother’s eyes.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye…

But I have orders from the dead that warn me:
Do not forget me,
My blood will fill the air you breathe forever,
My death bird is not dead, he carries all my teeth,
My smile of unforgetfulness, my laugh! Vrykolaka!
I am the man unburied who cannot sleep in forty pieces!
I am the girl, dismembered and unblessed,
I am the open mouth that drags your flesh,
And that can never rest!