Winter moonlight in snow covered vast woods. Drawing 
kingly winds dwelling honoured on my throne. Suddently I 
wondered on the highest cliffsedge of my homeland. The 
nightfall mist brought me visions from beyond the red 
horizon... All stood still, this omen would not last 
overnight. My name is whispered, time has come for me to 
die... At the sound of Hecate wings, behind the shades of 
Set. My eyes closed awaiting fearless she took my hand. 
To a white cold landscape once a glorious battlefield. 
And swear by my Celtic heart to grant always the victory 
chanting proudly my death. But the moon glows forever, 
taste the winds return so dark... Fallen pale moon, the 
pride of wolves forgotten. Leviathan tears bath us under 
funebre skies. Swing our swords through the triumphal 
breeze... My blood for you, divine beautiful Hecate. On 
her arms she held me high up towards. To touch the clouds 
in my last sleep... King I am, hailing for the eternal 
skies. Carrying the wolf within me, brave. My hordes 
riding like thunder, our flag shall not fall. Full moon 
and the pagan winds return. By fang revenge is ours!