Norse soldiers armed with virtue,
hearts of steel, minds filled with dignity,
Once they sailed across the open sea,
their eyes glowed with death-joy, and glory.

Brave men of endless strength,
as they sailed across the open sea.
Weak men in brown robes cried for mercy,
screamed for help to god almighty.
The ultimate warrior force,
crushed them neath their iron hand.
Mightiest conquerers ever, to be seen,
they were sent from an old foreign land,
waded in blood battle until the end,
a gift of strength, given from Wotan high.
Turned their gods and their ships to the north,
the waves upon the water were like ripples in their minds.
Entered than the ancient land of darkness,
as they soon would turn their ships again.

Norse soldiers armed with virtue,
hearts of steel, minds filled with dignity,
Once they sailed across the open sea,
their eyes glowed with death-joy, and glory.

Whipping tears from the sky,
as the forsaked throne embrace it's soul.
With blood on their hands,
and high-raised swords, the ancient gods command.

Fading the forest the shadows of the past,
with the ravens command they march onward.

Swear by the moon and the stars in the sky,
as they bend down and greet to their gods.
A cold mist now hovers their ground,
as they gather for war, mighty and proud.
Shadows appear from behind the torchlight,
slowly arise from the deepest fog.
The pestering storms, the raging battles forward from the north.
An ancient myth of a time to come, a black hole, an empty grave.
A birth of a forthcoming master, the darkening sky.
The fallen life as the stars die, in the gloom they rise.
The crowned one's, of ancient times.

Fading the forest the shadows of the past,
with the ravens command they march onward.

Tarer faller som tungt hostregn, i et kaldt desemberlandskap.
Tarer for min stolthet og min verdighet.

Pa min ferd inn i ensomheten, inn i skogens morke.
Til mine sorgers opphav jeg gar, i skam.
Jeg fylles av satans makter, og en dyster harmfull fred.
Et kall fra hans land, jeg skal synke i dodens vann,
og fare med strommene mot dodens land.
Hun slikker mine kinn, mens doden lokker kan jeg skimte hans rike.
Triste oyne og spake stemmer, folg min dragning mot gravens kalde morke.

Tarer faller som tungt ostregn, i et kaldt desemberlandskap.
Tarer for min stolthet og min verdighet.

Se i morket skal vi atter reises for krig mot lyset,
vi skal herje, jagende vart bytte.
Som en storm skal vi rive i filler hans rike,
under morkets klinge per krig, jeg skal do.
Aldri stride mere, kom drikk mine tarer.
Og mot din grotte vandre. I din grotte vi skal ra.
Pa min ferd inn i ensomheten, inn imot skogens morke.
Til mine sorgers opphav jeg gar, med hat.
Hun fuktet mine lepper, ar jeg nadd ditt rike.
Triste oyne og spake stemmer,
folg min dragning mot gravens kalde morke.

Gods of ancient twilight, glance the golden past,
let me enter your hidden gate, let me know I am the last.
Rise nocturnal spirits, eternal gods of the north,
blow your wind upon my flesh, reach me your immortal force.
I dance through the winter storms, all through a lifetime as man,
marching to the deepest fog, to bend down beneath your ancient hand.
So engraved by battles for years, but more mighty than ever,
with blood on my weapons I hunger, for more (I shall never give up the war).
I'll make this night my darkest intentions, walking towards your kingdom,
winter of the norse evil, I summon you to embrace and crown me.
Rise nocturnal spirits, eternal gods of the north,
blow your wind upon my flesh, reach me your immortal force

Kun opplyst av kveldsstjernen.
Ventende uten kjarlighet, uten varme dod skal komme.
Se spill ut all mjod og legg fjellene ode.
Mutte deres ruiner bli meg en verdig grav.