O Vandringsmand i een forbandet Nat Troe ey at hans Had dig vild skaane Hans Rov vild ey vaere nogen anden End dig - Der vild ski¦lve i hans v¦r I uselt Haab om at Huus er n¦r End dig - Hvis Blod skald blifve hans st¦rke Viin Oc Si¦l, hans hellige Trof© Faaf¦ngt han lader dig gyde Ut dit Blod i Smertens Sin Saa du som dèd ey Sofnloest kand Fort¦lde Fr¦nder: "Ulven er ham!" Som Offer for Beistets Krav Dit Blod vild rende koldt som B¦cl i Grav Gud er ey her, men Dèden n¦r Oc hvert Secund som her Er undt dig - Skimrer i et dobbelt Ski¦r Aff baade Liiv & Dèd Rasende lader han Bliket binde Lèfter dit i Maaneskinnet O Wanderer in this infernal Night Believe not his Hate will spare thee His prey shall be no one But thee - Who shall tremble when he is near In foolish hope for shelter And thou - Whose bloode strong wine shall be Thy Soule, his sacred Trophie In vein he lets thee shed Thy bloode in this Sea of Payne Then shalt thou not haunt thine friends Revealing: "The Wolf is he!" Coldlie thy bloode shall flow As streams through Graves below God is not here, but death draws near And secondes are O, so few In a Nature twofold they shine Beginning and End combine Fool, thou art prostrate By the raging eyne of his Lifted upwards Rapt in Moonshine Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com