That was the last night of the battle to death
There among corpses and terrible moaning
Samuil's standing at the abandoned and boundless
field
His black hair flowing, his head held up in proud
Wrapped up by the dark, bent over his crown
Lost down in his thoughts of dismal

Distant shout in the dark woke up pains in his soul
Torn out messenger, pale like the Death
Was riding up his way bringing sad message along to
him

"They're coming back, my great master,
All twelve regiments captured, crippled and bli