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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] Torch is blazing, pit is dug deep
Dear [bad word] into fire! 
Alive shouting grave will be here!

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