Fog pours in
To a coast of ice
By winter's sea
As grey and hard
and raw and black
as an internal grave
On a path of woe
in hills of the past
by ice-cold water
You will
see cold walking
in the shape of a man.
In Bjørgvin's grey
obscure and
occult alleys
Night,
Demon-possessed,
Will see you dead
Here a gate is guarded
in green and black
by an old snake
And the heart is wringed out
in praise of the King
in a carnivorous storm
The selling of souls
makes for dark choices
and dims the sun
Watch and kneel
as a Norwegian's soul
turns into a viper's nest
Because the devil flies
in the animals of the night,
sowing grains of pain
Our night-time
Sees the wide gate
on Lyderhorn
For Norway's honour we must kill
The seeds of legacy
we will spread
We swing the Nordic whip
of eternal snow
Let the sun die
Se the dark clouds gather
for winter's hunt
in devil's pact
When we knot the fist of Norway
in the Lord's garments
against eternal splendour
Heads bowed in shame
Humans become lame
Heads high in honour
we will carry the banner.