Afar the torch was lit and now it has grown to a river of flames

So very cold are these trails of north that we'll march singing forth

Fearless we rush upon your blades, Until death or victory and fame

Let our hymn be sang upon the slaughterlands of man



[Ref.:]

Songs of battle, born in flames

Forged in the fire and clashes of steel

Songs of battle, born in flames

From a paganland still free



Upon meadows of blood and lakes of fire our hymn echoes

Ever mighty, ever cheerful, a spirit never to be crushed

Even the mighty men will one day fall but the might itself will never

fade

In stories told, in pictures drawn our hymn goes ever on



[Ref]



Though one day we'll face Tuoni's rapids

Dead Land's black streams

Our hymn still proudly echoes

Generations change, sharpest blades come eventually blunt

But in the midst of battle these songs are ever sung



[Ref]