Voice of iron was sounding Thud of horses over blood glade Simple birds will help me To take fire to their own home! Broken armor on the brown grass! Rain of lances everywhere! Maimed corpses lie in dust You are truly winner there! How can explain, Oh, your soul through a rain, Eagles will carry away. Weeping for sun, Oh, nothing to say I will return to them pain After great funeral fire On perfidious murder She invites guest to the table Taste her wine with sleeping potion Time of vengeance is coming Torch is blazing, pit is dug deep Dear guests, come into fire! Alive shouting grave will be here!