Furious wind tears the sail,
Old Varangian stands near the helm.
Tomorrow three ships will drown,
The sailor’s common thing.
North fleet,
Only goes forth
Bastards, sails down,
To board!
There’s no meat in hold, out of beer…
How long to the great Rome?
It’s got to be tough but we’ll go through!
Like a woman profit awaits!
North fleet,
Only goes forth
Bastards, sails down,
To board!
Frost waits for tormented soldiers,
North fleet goes to nowhere,
Godforsaken is our land,
Enemy will cry – it’s for good reason…