The raven spreads it's runic wings
Against (the) autumnal moon
The cowering pack awaits the Triumph,
Of Winter transfixed by awe
The hammer of cold has smashed into pieces
The hordes of the living Loki
The flames are amuck, the body is empty
The grip of Berserk is firm
The raven spreads it's runic wings
Against (the) autumnal moon
The cowering pack awaits the Triumph,
Of Winter transfixed by awe
Your scream freezes on your lips,
Your blood is crunchy on your teeth
Dragon of war spits death
Viking beholds
The battle of the Gods, and lifts his sword