Upon raging waves.
Beneath grey clouds.
Far from home,
we're sailing south.
In the name
of our gods.

The darkness of the depth,
stare at us from down under.
But the gods over our heads,
keep their wathing bands above us.

Upon raging waves
we sail our ships.
And we look back
against the north,
that we long for.

We step ashore with a thirst of gold.
The sound of steel make us strong.
Soon we've reached the aim for this journey:
Wealth to all our men.

Upon raging waves.
Beneath blazing sun.
We're sailing north
with the pride kept
in our hearts.

Born like a true hammerchild
I was along time ago.
Dubbed with lightning and steel
in the sign of the ravens.
Cold nordic winds
sweep across our land
with air
breathed in the sky.

Under the wings
of Odins messengers we live.
Carrying on our nordic blood
from fathers to sons.

In the sign of the ravens,
our hearts still pounds.
To the might of thy hammer,
we are eternally bound.

In the sign of the ravens,
our hearts still pounds.
To the might of thy hammer,
we are eternally bound.

Strong ancient spirits
gurdes our way of living,
with scenes
seen way up in Valhall.
When the horn is blown
we will stand united
in long armoured lines,
ready for the eastern treat.

We shall fight beneath the sky,
as you fight above.
We shall all be willing to die,
in the sign of the ravens.

Over mountains and rivers.
Over valleys and creeks,
the spirit of our forfathers sweep.

Past plains and forests.
Past the clouds in the sky.
the shadow of the ravens flies.

Shadows!
Shadows of the past.
Shadows!
Of what once used to be.
Shadows!
Shadows of the past.
Shadows!
Vanishing to be just a memory.

Through land after land.
Through the grass on the meadow,
the breath of the elderly still blow.

Beneath the sun and the moon.
Beneath the stars way up high,
the ancient oaks reaches for the sky.

Shadows!
Shadows of the past.
Shadows!
Of what once used to be.
Shadows!
Shadows of the past.
Shadows!
Vanishing to be just a memory.

[Instrumental]

The moons pale light falls over the trees,
and they cast their black shadows
over the snowcovered heaths.

Behold this land, embraced by frost.
Life and fertillity, forgotten and lost.

A mirrow of ice upon the lake.
I praise this land of ice and snow.
Snowstorms whining among the trees.
I praise this land where freezing winds do blow.

Fallen snowflakes in the starlight,
lies silently and still.
A lonely wolf barks in the winternight.

Behold this land, embraced by frost.
Life and fertillity, forgotten and lost.

A mirrow of ice upon the lake.
I praise this land of ice and snow.
Snowstorms whining among the trees.
I praise this land where freezing winds do blow.

In the forest of moonlight
the secrets of ancient battler are hidden.
But in the northern lands
the memory of the brave still remain.

Between the trees at the meadow
the sounds of war still echoes.
In the grass at the meadow
the blood still flows.

In the forest of moonlight
the secrets of ancient battler are hidden.
Forever they are lost.

At the meadow in the forest
all of them died by sword,
to step into the neverending fight
at the hall of our lord.

Runt kring vår stuga småjävlar sluga,
tassa så tyst med bockfet och svans.
Varulvar yla isande kyla,
sveper i dimma fantygets dans.
Bäva och broder lyssna och hör,
vrålen från gast som osalig dör.
Döden han skrattar flaskan han fatter,
svänger med den tills dagen gryr.

Gastar och spoken skymtas i kröken,
dodingar släpar ruttnande lik.
Benrangel skramla spökhänder famla,
kväver din strupes rosslande skrik.
Helvetets alla fasor slåpps loss,
fan rider runt med hela sin tross.
Döden han skrattar flaskan han fattar
svänger med den tills dagen gryr.

In a time now long gone
wise mans hands
was carving stories into the stones
all over our land.

Stories carved in stone.
To last for eternity.

The runes speak of forgotten times,
forgotten times of the elderly.
A time when man stood up strong and proud,
not afraid to fall for the almighty.
Warriors from the north lands,
sailed east for wealth and glory.
Their destinies immortalized in stone,
from which we are told these stories.

In the age of the ravens
men bravely gave their lifes
to the high ones in the sky,
to be brought up high.

Stories carved in stone.
To last for eternity.

The runes speaks of forgotten times,
forgotten times of the elderly.
A time when man stood up strong and proud,
not afraid to fall for the almighty.
Warriors from the north lands,
sailed east for wealth and glory.
Their destinies immortalized in stone,
from which we are told these stories.

Runes - everlasting.
History - evertelling.

The frost comes, hand in hand with dawn.
It turnes all lakes into mirrows,
reflecting the moon.

Freezing storms of snow,
come let me feel your purity.
Freezing storms of snow,
may you whine herefor eternity.

As I walk throng the frostbitten forests
I get enchanted by the harshness,
alive by the chill and allmighty
by my solitariness.

There is not a more
as far as the eye can see.
Frej, god of seasons!
Let this forever be.

In this desolated land I am everything.

Freezing storms of snow,
come let me feel your purity.
Freezing storms of snow,
may you whine herefor eternity.

Let me be enchanted by the harshness,
alive by the chill and allmighty,
by my solitariness.

In this desolated land I am everything.

Where the moon in the solitude shines.
Where the owl has it's nest.
Where the spruceforest lonely whines,
there I will find peace.

Over every log and stone
the fog lies.
In the cold and pail light
of the moon,
the wolf barks at the sky.

Where the moon in the solitude shines.
Where the owl has it's nest.
Where the spruceforest lonely whines,
there I will find peace.

To this untouched primeval forest,
shall my spirit forever belong.
Here shall I die in solitude under
the tones of an elvrong.

This is where my spirit
forever shall be.

[Instrumental]