Call of the Heathen Horns - Bornholm

See the lights around

Warriors in shining armour

Marching through the path of the elder

Clouds rise on the mountain’s high

Oh, cold Carpathian wind

Clean, as our virgin’s blood

Listen to the roars of battles

See awakening forgotten wrath

Oh, cold and mysterious night

Idolised, graceful empires

Halberds are shining bright

The armies of Heathens rise

Oh, cold Carpathian wind

I hear your call, bringer of storms

The stars shining above the mountains

Like lights above the graves

Father, take my soul

To the halls of eternal glory

Father, raise my sword

To unleash my raging fury

I hear the sounds of battle drums

I hear the call of the heathen horns

A call for war