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