Cold wind of the north
Who calls through the pine
The lost gave us their names.
Now their
Names live in ours
Over the moore where the black ravens
Fly, we follow their wings through the pale winter sky
Ash in the valley, frost on the stone.
A
Voice in the distance is leading us home.
The shields have grown silent.
The fires have grown low.
But songs of the fallen still live in the snow.
Carry
Carry northern wind over mountain over sea