When the sun will sink in a sea And the singing of birds will die away When the beast wails in darkness And hears a sinister scream I will see familiar faces, silhouettes of the bravest tribes Warriors back from the march, bringing their victims to Gods We will make lonely fires we will seat and keep the silence Respecting the memory of those Who we'll meet in the other world When the first stars flashed up And the leader of tribes becomes another He will dance an ancient rite, a primitive dance of fate