>>5922450
By Roaring Rudra did we come,
As crimson hands beat bloody drums,
With howls we bade,
The widows made,
To mourn their fathers, husbands, sons.
As Maruts we descend the Storm,
In Indra’s Warband, bound, oathsworn,
Our tempest looms,
Foreboding doom,
For we are by Thunderbolt born.
The works of Wrathful Ares waged,
The price of glory duly paid,
On Trojan shores,
In bloody wars,
That bid our memory never fade.
To drums of Sparta did we dance,
Ashen spears in our hands,
By rhythm stepped,
Embracing death,
Under Auspices’ command.
As Wolves of Murderous Mars,
Fighting beneath His crimson Star,
The Godborn Twins,
Did glory win,
When we conquered lands afar.
By Odin’s Ravens did we fly,
On blackened wings in angry sky,
The Wild Hunt,
Bore battle’s brunt,
The Einharjar went forth to die.
By hands of Harii horror held,
By sword and spear men were felled,
With skin dyed black,
In our attack,
By no foe were we repelled.
With Harald Fairhair proved our worth,
Under our banner; Norway’s birth,
Along in war,
With Bear and Boar,
And thus Three Swords adorn the Earth.
By the blade we spread our flame,
In Ares, Rudra, Mars’ name,
Odin’s sons,
By battles won,
So too shall we be again.
