Watch and behold, how the glory of banners
in the flickering light of torches
sets hearts alight, and to rhythmically beat
in battle lust, the splashing of mead, and ecstasy!
See first among equals, a son of the gods
descended from snow storms and frost.
At peace with the fate of a borrowed life,
as long as the edge won't be corroded by rust.
As dawn bleeds, like brothers they fight
and the sun is as red as blood.
Just like Siegfried on Fafner's lands
among danger, misfortune and betrayal
he keeps his spirit and body strong
in the bloody game of honour.
And each time he's called by the winds of war
on sail for a journey of flames
he gently caresses his woman's cheek,
but grasps his sword in a fist of iron.
The blade is drawn.
The wolf-hour strikes.
Onward! To glory and death!
In the veins his noble blood surges
he is not afraid to give up his life.
His heart is filled with heroic bravery
en route to a new offensive.
For he who wants to walk in the footsteps of heroes
does what he must, and he can,
he will not yield, he will stand where he does
to fall, and to die, like a man.
With blood it is written
that the deeds done in life
is what judges the soul in the end.
By the falling oak-leaves victoriously crowned
fearless he struggles in battle.
All the glory his deeds have won
will be eternally remembered.
The path of a hero is a thorny trail,
whose ending is found by few
it passes through blood, through fire and war
and leads to a hero's grave.
He doesn't look back, he doesn't look ahead,
he begins his final assault.
Watch the banner guard fall, the Valkyries call,
he slays, on the road to Valhalla!
A hero, on his way to Valhalla.