The frozen ground crunches under my feet,
My cold pride burns in my heart
And ancient spirits roam here under a glacier
Like shadows of a past that died, but still lives.
they are the echoes of the mountains,
Like delicate summer flowers
on a cold winter night
They wither, they wither and die.
they are winter's dead summer flowers,
on their way I frost roses lay.
But the silence heralds my death.
Did I come here to die?
Here where the sun is cold
And the wasteland is endless,
Here under a glacier< br/>where ancient spirits roam,
Here I belong
And here I want to die.