The march of the last swords can be heard in the distance The path that brought us alive from moments will miss us High birds fly That the Norns like to hear They wait for the honorable fall Next to us The Goddess who gave us the day Takes formidable the stirrups We do not fear fire The ruin of our thoughts The loss of our body Squeeze my body Knowing that When the moon drinks in the heavens From Ymir The horror will fall under your shoulders And you will remember my eyes The only ones who can Free you from the axe That will bend your soul That came with the winter