Оригинален текст
An Eerie Mage
come forth along.
My greatest sketch
Is burning long.
I long for ice and frosty rise.
The fullmoon nigth is our time.
The biting winds feels for grace.
They're emblazoned with its ellegance.
The triumph of battle comes down.
The horns of war gets through the nordens.
A norse claws warriors unsunned.
Moonned with the sworded wings.
Aurored with warrioring pride.
Emblazoned with the biting winds.
Forever standing cold.
In a world of permafrost.
Antartical dimensions rises.
With the cold winds unfold.
My spirit will go on
As a Norse warriors I've sunk
The biting winds await
Emblazoned they are called.