Blinding Fog

The guardians of our fatherland, the symbols of freedom
An ancient nordic pride, rulers of our native forests

Gods of heathen nordic cultures above
Beasts of snowy fields on their way
Over the hills of freezing wind
Through the woods of blinding mist, following the lights

To the empire of Allfather
To his great halls of heroes

The shape of a wolf against the moon
Hundreds of howls in the night, night of blackness
They are the fangs and ears of Wotan

Beasts of the coldest winters, guided by the flames, high up in the night sky
Down from the mountains they descend, one by one
By the roots of Yggdrasil tree they gather

Gathering for one and Allfather!

Wolves of the snowy fields
Awaken the sleeping heathen gods!