O Wanderer in one accursed night
Believe that his Hatred would spare you wildly
His Robbery would be none other
Than you -
There wild skielves in his weather
In vain hope that House is nearer
Than you -
If blood shall become his strong wine
Oc Siæ¦, his holy trophy
How often he lets you spawn
Out your blood in the heart of pain
So you as death ey Sofnloest kand
Tell Friends: The wolf is ham!
Som Offer for Beistets Krav
Dit Blod vild rende koldt som Bæcl i Grav
Gud er ey her, men Døden nær
Oc hvert Secund som her
Er undt dig -
Skimrer i et dobbelt Skiær
Aff baade Liiv & Død
Rasende lader han Bliket binde
Løfter dit i Maaneskinnet
***************************
O Wanderer in this infernal Night
Believe not his Hate will spare thee
His prey shall be no one
But thee -
Who shall tremble when he is near
In foolish hope for shelter
And thou -
Whose bloode strong wine shall be
Thy Soule, his sacred Trophie
In vein he lets thee shed
Thy bloode in this Sea of Payne
Then shalt thou not haunt thine friends
Revealing: The Wolf is he!
Coldlie thy bloode shall flow
As streams through Graves below
God is not here, but death draws near
And secondes are O, so few
In a Nature twofold they shine
Beginning and End combine
Fool, thou art prostrate
By the raging eyne of his
Lifted upwards
Rapt in Moonshine

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