Wail of the North

Under these cold northern stars

Songs are filled with sorrow

Brief is the time of summer winds

Moon is sad as the night

Here the callous frost slowly crawls inside the hearts

Here the winter's breeze will break the purest soul

Grown on this rimed soil we've learnt to rue and yearn

Grown in these bleak woods we've learnt to forsake our dreams

And again (and again), the mourning unfolds before me

Like an open black grave (like an open black grave)