True Celtic power
From the cape of Cornwall
Cry of hope, angels cry
This was omen, our sign, prediction

In this proud land I grew up strong
My tears are flowing all around
The wind is twisting my sorrow

Distant gate, gothic grave
Through ages our clan still remain

True Celtic power
From the cape of Cornwall
Cry of hope, angels cry
This was omen, our sign, prediction

All through my life
I have carried our ring
The omen
All this was the fragment from my life

In this proud land I was born alone
I was taught to fight, taught to win

They told me the way
Of steel and secret
I am the unburied child
Child without a namе
Without fate
I fight for peace and lovе
I am reborn