Souls are drunk with Rage
Hearts are filled with Hatred
By the Werewolves Rapacious Pack
By the Steel of Berserkers Sights
At last their Spears are aimed forth
Glittering are Valkyries Armours
Squalling Vortex of Einherjers Hate
Where is no Place for pity
There where Cold Winds are singing
Glory to Warriors that fell in Fight
Glory to Those who gave Their Lives
With no doubt in the name of Their Faith
Where Snows are sweep high the Mounds
To Those Who stepped against foes till the end
To Those Whose braveness is unknown
To any damned christian sheep
Descendants of Gods stared in Death's Eyes
And held tight in a Hands their Swords
Their Bodies are swallowed by Funeral Pyres
And their Ashes by Rains washed away


There where the Last Battle begin
Where Ragnarok Storm roll
With a loud yell ”Heil Wotan!”
Winged Brother of Wolf shalt drink Mead of Our Wounds
Where Black Sun ascend high
Where is no Place for compassion
Where the Halls of Swords and Shields are –
Where Brave Warriors shalt meet again
Descendants of Gods stared in Death's Eyes
And held tight in a Hands their Swords
Their Bodies are swallowed by Funeral Pyres
And their Ashes by Rains washed away
There where the Last Battle begin
Where Ragnarok Storm roll
With a loud yell ”Heil Wotan!”
Winged Brother of Wolf shalt drink Mead of Our Wounds
Where Black Sun ascend high
Where is no Place for compassion
Where the Halls of Swords and Shields are –
There Brave Warriors shalt meet again
In Valhalla We Shalt Meet Again!
Heil Odin!