Strange? quiet, everything is calm*
and the red moon is watching? from above,
Only the wind blows? silent
Through tent cloths and traces of smoke.
?and no one knows that? death
Stalks again from the sky and the valleys,
The Romanian attack is heavy as a punch,
It is the evening when the pagans have no way...
In Kara Iflak!
A horse clatter is heard in the fields,
And the frightened Turks rise to their feet.
I look with small eyes among the tall tents,
I don't know who's coming and what they're talking about? has.
With swords in hand? i?wait? with fear?,
S? I'm seeing? from where and who is attacking them?.
I see with amazement a single Wallachian,
What is he cutting with force?? and hate hell.
At night!
Many fires are lit, but Vlad is made of stone,
He passes through the Turks, and I can't see?
Where to? am i running or how to more fights,
When again? 100 Vlachs jump from the mountain.
Are they as cruel as a pack? of wolves who felt
Traces of blood and fear in their eyes,
With great, heavy swords they strike unceasingly
With many blows they reaped.
Night!

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