Here beside me,under endless howling winds
My dying race is wandering homewards,
Led by an old man to shores.that don't exist,
Just emptiness remains...

On and on goes our march [bad word] as the
Light of sun,cold as winds that hide in me

Hour after hour, day after day my lullaby is
Turning and falls gently on this sleeping land
Like a hawk trembling of hunger and like a
Burning source...

Two years have passed and still my race is
Wandering through foreign shores...
Homewards....

My soul is now formed as a knife forwards
The heart of your heaven.
And so I die...

Still my folk keeps on marching...
Homewards...