Miss lienee hn joka

kylns mi,

johti vihollisen hykkykseen?

Miss lienee hn joka veljens verta

jalkojensa juureen vuodatti?



Kuka lienee hn vailla rohkeutta,

muinoin mieli soturin?

Kuka lieneekn vailla kunniaa,

katkeruuden liekin polttama?



Hnk kuullut ei teurastettavia,

omaa heikkouttaan kirosi?

Hnk palkan teoistansa sai,

rikkauden taakan kera pakeni?



Taival petturin synkn taivaan alla,

luolat susien eivt suojaa anna.

Pako ikuinen, et muuta nhd saata,

taival petturin niin lohduton.



Ja tiedt, silmt nuo tarkkailevat askeleita htisten,

on maa aina nlkisempi mit vhemmn se saalistaa.

Niin helppoa on upottaa matkaaja ja raskas lasti

kun ote hellittmtn jo etsii hautapaikkaa.



[English translation:]



[FIELD OF THE DEVIL]



Where might be the one who sold his village,

lead the enemy for a strike?

Where might be the one who by his feet

shed the blood of his own brother?



Who might be the one with no courage,

once with heart of a warrior?

Who might he be with no honour,

burnt by the flame of embitterment?



Did he not hear those to be slaughtered,

cursing his own weakness?

Did he receive a pay for his deeds,

ran away with the burden of wealth?



The way of a traitor underneath the darkest sky,

caves of the wolves offer no shelter.

A flight through forever, nothing else you see,

the way of a traitor so desperate.



And know that those eyes are watching every hasty step,

the less the ground is hunting the hungrier it grows.

So easy it is to drown a roamer and a heavy load

at the expense of a firm grasp seeking a burial place.