[Music by Nordavind '92]
Eternally sounds the mighty waves,
A triton's hymn round a rock-strewn grave,
sigh for the bones that moulder,
Over the nordic black sea, where the winds btew colder.
Here in a bed of wrack and
Beneath rests a sea king of the north,
His fallen history remains unknown,
Now his grave is just a heap of
"The waves crest sharp as an unsheated blade,
As spume-topped breakers shorewards loom,
And boulder on boulder on
land is laid,
The triton's hymn round a vanished tomb"
The ocean cradles it's sleepy wave,
Round the curve of the yellow
Of the bleak and mysterious little isle,
Where no leaf has been touched by human hands.
Then I behold that island so
Where the tree's lift their crown in prayers
To the golden glow of the evening sky
I hold the sword towards the moon,
memories echoes with cries.
Hark, to the ocean's cold clamerous roar,
The pale mist hovers towards the nightly shores.
fire in my burning flame,
Hail to the father of the fallen flame.
Acknowledge the supreme Northern (racial) purity.
in the blood of my veins.
As the nocturnal curtain falls
With the total eclipse of the moon above...
The pale mist hovers
towards the nightly shores.