Ode á Batalha!

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Sangue no campo de batalha.
O frio congela a nossa carne.
E o pavor nos atormenta.
Reis e Rainhas, degolados.
Fim do condado e da esperança!
O fogo e o ranger das espadas.
São a única canção,
Que, talvez, iremos ouvir,
Antes de sermos brutalmente.
Despedaçados por lâmina inimiga!
Gritos de terror,
Não há tempo para recear.
É matar ou ser morto!
Sem Deus ou Diabo,
Quem nos julgará?
As cinzas da batalha.
Caem sobre a nossa face.
Esta é a única verdade.
Á qual nos apoiaremos.
Neste instante, sem esperanças,
Batalhamos com as nossas forças.
Até ao fim, até encontrarmos,
O nosso descanso final!
Avante, o nosso castigo final,
Merecemos este inferno!
O nosso lar em chamas.
Arrastamo-nos nesta nevasca.
Manchada pelo o nosso sangue.
Guerra rasgada na nossa memória.
Sozinhos nesta batalha fria.
Os nossos corpos pelas chamas,
Serão devorados e carbonizados.
Apenas o caos e o desespero,
Por nós será lembrado!

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