The morning sun is rising, 
the forest cloaked in gold. 
And the mist surrounds the mountains, 
the landscape calm and cold. 

The hall of bronzen shields up high 
in a distance far shining bright. 
And the horns are sounding from afar 
for Walkiesjar. 

gentle breeze caresses me, 
 [bad word] are warily cast, 
heralding fate and fortune, 
my future and my past. 

On supple wings two ravens fly 
to lead us to ultimate [bad word]  
And the horns are sounding from afar 
for Walkiesjar