Mordminnen [English translation]

The murderer, he lived in a croft

His mentality dark as feathers of a crow

Dour and alone with murder in his heart

A dozen slaughters, he enjoyed of the memory

Murder in mind

He guards, he spies on his lambs

The spirit of hatred grows in him

On the sides of roads, at the trenches of paths

Filled with massacre, thisrty to hurt

He strikes only during a storm

When everything is done, he will eat

There he catches the close and dear ones of many

Their flesh for the glory of the dark, devoured!

He cleaned his tools well

With them hangs them up

Dry, wind, tear, grate

He knows his tricks, he grins

Murder in mind

His leg shortly burns in the sea of flames

His penalty, he knows, the hottest tomb

There he is cursed under the ground

For his deeds, for memories of murder